Two is a crowd
by Zaxarus
Summary: James Potter trusted Sirius like a brother. Lily trusted Remus even more. How far will a friend go to honour this trust and to protect her son? What is Dumbledore's backup plan after losing the one and only boy-who-lived? And how will the public react when they learn about the truth? It is time for the tri wizard tournament. It is time for the truth to be reveiled.
1. Chapter 1 Two's a crowd

_**A/N**_

 _This story has been haunting me for a couple of years now. How would Harry's absence influence the events at Hogwarts? How would the population react to a Harry who has been reared in a quite different – and far better – way? What would be Dumbledore's backup plan?_

 _While this story still adheres to the main events of the books, some of them had different results because of his absence. One important detail of chapter one will be a little confusing at first. Don't worry, it will be explained later._

 _I borrowed a couple of ideas about magic from the Shadowrun Roleplay._

 _I have to thank my son and a very good friend/colleague of mine for helping me with the story's details and a number of logical problems. I hope you'll enjoy the result._

 _Little warning: bashing (mostly) of Dumbledore. In this story he won't be evil but very determined to do what he thinks will get the best result._

.

 **Two's a crowd**

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Halloween of 1994**_

.

Another year, another feast - this one only proved to be a little more opulent and special than the former ones. Eight weeks ago, her third year at Hogwarts had started; her third year in her personal hell. This place should have been a heaven though. As feared and expected it had been even worse than in her previous school. With Percy Weasley and, more importantly, Penelope Clearwater gone the bullies had started to target her even more. Luckily, Hermione had grown a thick skin by now. Two years of mocking and teasing, of being pushed around and messing with her things tended to do this to a teenaged girl. Not to forget her brush with a very bloody and painful near-death experience.

The bushy-haired girl looked around, her chocolate-brown eyes roaming the Great Hall and its hundreds of occupants. Hufflepuffs, Slytherins and Gryffindors had gathered tonight without exception. Nobody wanted to miss this evening; and none of her Ravenclaws either. _Hers_ , she sneered. They had never been _hers_. They had been mocking her since the Sorting Hat chose this house to be her new home and family. The Claws had never welcomed her, never stood up to her defence when Draco Malfoy and his thugs bullied and threatened her. They never said a word when the Weasleys scared her away from "their very own" Harry Potter. She only wanted to be his friend. But it wasn't meant to be.

Glancing towards the Gryffindor table, Hermione felt a wave of hate rush through her body at the sight of the redheads lording over there. Most students thought the Twins to be funny. However, she saw no humour in bullying others with their disgusting pranks. Itching powder, blotching ink and ripping bags – she had gotten used to those "little jokes", had been their target often enough in the past. Ginny Weasley had never been part of them. She actually avoided her brothers most of the time. Still, the little girl somehow sent the chills down Hermione's spine. There was something about her that frightened her in an animalistic way. _Don't mess with me, I'm dangerous_ , was the silent message. The worst however was Ron Weasley. He never gave up on a chance to push her around. Somehow even now, belonging to different houses and years, he was able to mess with her on a nearly daily basis. Without him, she would have been a fourth year by now. Without him, her body…

A small hand grabbed her trembling one in an effort to slow down her racing heart. "It's alright." The voice was barely a whisper, prompting Hermione to look to her right. The sight of a smiling Luna bearing that far-away look she usually got on her face was enough to heighten her spirits. It drove away those sad memories and reminded her of the one good thing that had happened in her life thanks to Ron Weasley. Yes, she would always despise him and wish him to feel hurt as she did. But she would also always be thankful to him. Because of him she found a sister in Luna, if not in blood and law then in mind and heart. Hermione smiled. Yes, Luna was her sister where and when it counted. It was the only thing that truly mattered.

"It's time," a deep rumbling voice interrupted her line of thoughts, "for the Goblet of Fire to choose our champions."

Turning towards the teachers' table, Hermione nearly missed the fleeting scowl on Luna's face. The small girl, ignoring the sneers of the other Ravenclaw girls and the tension among the Beauxbatons girls visiting their table, heaped a couple of marmalade toasts onto a dish and pushed them in front of her older friend.

"Eat … you'll need it later."

Hermione lifted a single eyebrow, a gesture Luna reciprocated as if daring her to ask. After a moment of silence, with Dumbledore's explanations about the process and the magic of the choosing being only some kind of background rumble and mumble, Hermione simply sighed and obeyed. Over the past two years, she had learned never to question Luna's musings. More often than not the answer was far more confusing than before. Luna was chaos and confusion personalized – and Hermione actually liked it. This was certainly the proof of how much she had changed since the beginning of their friendship. They cared deeply for each other. They protected each other in this sea of rejection and prejudice called Hogwarts.

Barely listening to the never-ending babbling of her headmaster, Hermione's gaze passed over the other teachers. There was Minerva McGonagall, her former head of house. In the beginning, she had adored the extremely intelligent and very strict teacher. At first glance, McGonagall had been her paragon, the epitome of how a teacher should be. This had changed quite drastically over the years though. Now, she ranged barely above Severus Snape, their disgusting potions teacher. Next to McGonagall sat Madam Sprout, with the nice and calm assistant Alice Longbottom at her side. The younger woman was looking a bit sad, as usual. Then there was Filius Flitwick, the overeager yet far too often problems overlooking Ravenclaw Head, animatedly talking with Percy Weasley. Hermione assumed they were exchanging news about Penelope, Percy's regretfully absent fiancée. She missed the former head girl dearly.

Luna looked around, her eyes mostly on the ceiling of the Great Hall. Hermione assumed she was looking for Nargles, or Wrackspurts, or some other kind of creature only she was able to see. "Looney…" Marietta Edgecomb whispered, surely adding an unkindness of some sort. Her close friend Cho Chang snickered. Hermione didn't understand how a nice and intelligent boy like Cedric Diggory could be the boyfriend of such a bitch. _Boys_ , she sighed. Apparently only appearance counted for them in the end. She glared at the girls and the whispering trailed off. They tried to look haughty, but a little tremble could be seen around their lips. Despite being two years her senior, Chang and Edgecomb had learned the hard way not to mess with Hermione, and how protective she was of her little sister.

"It's starting," Luna whispered, her eyes still at the ceiling. She seemed to be very excited about something. Her smile deepened. "Here we go!"

.

"The Champion representing Beauxbatons will be … Fleur Delacour."

There were a number of angry glares from the girls and drooling male faces accompanying the blonde beauty as she strutted from the Ravenclaw table towards Headmaster Dumbledore. The Beauxbatons students didn't seem surprised, but not all of them looked happy either. Hermione was quite indifferent towards the French Champion so far. Certainly, she was more than a blonde bombshell plus Veela charm. Fleur had proven her intellect and knowledge more than once already in a couple of conversations Hermione had been a witness of. On the other hand, she often showed a disturbing lack of compassion for the less talented and her biting comments about everything British were more than a tad annoying. _Preferring elegance over practicability in choosing her clothes but whining about the cold weather_ , Hermione rolled her eyes. _There is something called a jumper, you know? Yes, it is unflattering to your figure, so what?_

"Durmstrang will be represented by … Victor Krum."

Another unsurprising choice, certainly, as everybody had expected the Quidditch prodigy to represent his dark-reputed school. He left his circle of comrades at the Slytherin table – Hermione couldn't call them students with their uniform-like clothes and their martial demeanour – to accept the selection with an air of confidence. Only time would tell if it was justified confidence or dumb overconfidence. For a moment, Hermione exchanged a small nod and a tiny smile with Gregory Goyle without anybody noticing. He belonged to a handful of Slytherins who didn't behave awfully towards Luna and her, and he was the only one among them she could call a friend. _His big heart and stubbornness would make him a better Gryffindor than most members of the lions' house_ , Hermione mused. _Not that any of them would agree with such a statement._

"The third champion and representative of Hogwarts will be…"

Hermione narrowed her eyes as she noticed how Dumbledore's eyes flickered towards his preferred house, the house of brashness and boldness, even before he opened the slightly singed paper.

"…Harry Potter."

She rolled her eyes. _He knew it beforehand_. Around her was a moment of stunned silence, before the applause slowly arose. Naturally, the Gryffindors were the first to start the "Harry, Harry" shouting, led by a very loud trio of redheads. Only a couple of hours before the same trio had, together with a slightly panicked looking Harry, entered their names into the Goblet of Fire. The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws followed their lead, far more sedate, some looking quite annoyed, while the Slytherins barely raised a hand to applaud politely.

"So, this is the reason…," Hermione mumbled. That everybody in fourth year and up would be allowed to enter, had been a surprise. "He wanted Potter… what are you doing?" Hermione tried to pull her hands away. Luna allowed none of it and continued to cleanse her hands from the marmalade with her wet handkerchief. "It's happening," she whisper-grinned, her response barely an explanation. Turning Hermione's hand to and fro to inspect them, Luna seemed to be content and let them go. "It's happening," she giggled. "Are you ready?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. She loved Luna, she really did. But right now, she felt the dire urge to throttle her. She wanted her peace. She wanted to ponder about the oddness named Headmaster Dumbledore and his apparent wish to send Harry Potter into this tournament – a boy who was, as far as she knew, famous but not nearly talented enough to have the slightest chance of winning. She sighed and glared slightly, only the tiniest smile around her lips softening the impression. "What is happening?"

Luna shrugged. "No idea." She giggled happily.

Because of Luna's silly behaviour, Hermione had missed Potter's penitential pilgrimage along the Great Hall. The delegacies from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons were hardly impressed by this frightened looking teenager. Hermione felt pity for him. While he often followed Ron's lead in pranking and teasing her, there had been glimpses of a softer and more demure boy in the past. She was quite certain: without the Weasleys, he wouldn't even have entered his name in the tournament. Now he was standing in front of hundreds of students, looking like a firsty between the bulky Krum and the slim but far taller Delacour.

Headmaster Dumbledore waited for the applause to subside, showing his typical grandfatherly smile with those twinkling eyes – the same eyes that now widened as a fourth piece of paper shot into the air from the still glowing Goblet and jumped into his hand.

 _What was happening?_

Hermione gulped and glanced towards Luna. Her friend was staring at a spot near the Goblet – an empty spot as of now. She completely ignored the agitation among the judges now gathering around Dumbledore. They talked animatedly, their words hidden by a hastily cast privacy spell, their eyes wandering towards Potter from time to time. Karkaroff, the headmaster of Durmstrang, yelled something in an accusing manner. Bagman tried to sooth the waves. Crouch looked a little bored.

Unnoticed by them, the glowing around the Goblet slowly increased in brightness and started to pulse slightly. Hermione watched it with morbid fascination. Luna mumbled something about "gathering Wrackspurts". The pulsing intensified, now drawing the judges' interest as well. Dumbledore cancelled the privacy spell and hurried – surprisingly fast considering his advanced age – towards the Goblet. Before he was able to reach the magical artefact however, it exploded with a burst of light, promptly engineering all kinds of screeches around the chamber and causing many students to cower in fear.

A ball of solid light appeared ten feet above the ground, right above the spot Luna was still watching. Brimming with magic, it expanded and contracted a couple of times before it suddenly ceased to exist with another bright explosion. Hermione's eyes needed a few moments to adapt. She blinked, trying to focus on the person that was standing right there where the ball of light had been moments before.

Whoever it was, Hermione had no doubt that a fourth champion had appeared, executing quite the dramatic entrance to boot.

.

Headmaster Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore cursed inwardly.

The day had started so well. The tournament, happening at Hogwarts for the first time after more than two hundred years, had been meant to serve a dual purpose. On the one hand, Albus wanted to use it for celebrating his success. A hundred years ago, young Albus had been a student of Hogwarts. Fifty years ago, he had reached his personal summit: becoming headmaster of this prestigious school. On the other hand, he intended to use the tournament as a testing ground for his personal weapon… err, his protégé. A little bending of rules, a little prodding of young Weasley et voilà: a protégé awaiting his baptism of fire.

Harry James Potter had been in his care for more than a decade now. Carefully reared, he had been educated and directed towards his one goal and purpose: to help and assist Dumbledore in destroying Voldemort, hereby making Albus the destroyer of not one but two Dark Lords and immortalizing his name forever. To achieve this goal, he had revived another tradition: influencing the Goblet. While the assumptions about the Goblet of Fire choosing the champions were basically correct, it was a well-kept secret among the participating headmasters that a student could be "magically praised". The stronger and more cunning the headmaster, the more the Goblet's decision could be influenced.

Headmaster Karkaroff and Headmistress Maxime had made good use of that opportunity as well. So, in reality the whole choosing was only a big bogus to dazzle the audience. At least it had been until a fourth piece of paper appeared out of nowhere. This could easily turn into a big stinking heap of humiliation for all of them. With a fourth champion, far too many unwelcome questions could be raised about the other three. Had it been Karkaroff? Had the Durmstrang headmaster been too weak to pull off the magical heist? Actually, Dumbledore had been a little surprised about his apparent success. Perhaps it hadn't even worked at all and the Goblet had chosen Krum on its own accord. After all, the young man was well-known and respected Europe-wide for a reason.

It only got worse when Albus read the name on the slip of paper.

 _Harry James Potter._

Why? How could it be? He glared at the piece of paper, willed it to vanish. Harry Potter had been chosen for a second time. This was unthinkable. This was…

Like the rest of the audience, he had to shield his eyes from the brightness of the magical light. This could easily turn into his worst day since… since his sister died and his lover left him. Dumbledore cursed again. A shocked audience was watching this new event: A young man appeared out of nowhere, which everyone knew was impossible within the halls of Hogwarts. He appeared to be around fourteen or fifteen. He was tall above average and looked quite healthy, with a tanned skin and broad shoulders. Obviously, he had developed more muscles than was typical for nowadays young wizards and Albus had no doubt he would fetch the eye of more than one witch – or wizard. Dumbledore glanced to the left where the three champions were waiting and staring with wide eyes. The similarity was fetching and unmistakably. The foreigner could have been… not exactly Harry's twin but his brother or at least his cousin. The same hair, the same chin, only his eyes were of a vibrant green while Harry had his father's brown one's. The pair of green eyes was now resting on Dumbledore who stood the closest to the young man, narrowing in suspicion.

He was wearing one of those Muggle trousers called _jeans_ or something, a check shirt and… was that an axe in his hand? It looked like one of those chopping axes Hagrid used, only smaller. No wand was visible, only some kind of knife in a belt sheath. He reeked of a mix of sweat, fir needles and fresh wood. Had he actually been chopping wood by hand when the Goblet summoned him? Albus had no doubt that this was exactly what had happened. Perhaps he was a squib, forced to do things by hand instead of using the better, magical way. The young man stared at him in a mix of confusion and rightful anger.

"What the heck…" where the first English words that left the boy's mouth, followed by a bit of French that appeared to be a string of curses. His English sounded weird somehow, Albus noticed.

"You," he pointed towards Dumbledore with the axe still in his hand, "what have you…" Dumbledore didn't feel threatened. His mind was still far too occupied wondering how to survive this impossible situation with his reputation intact. Regretfully, Severus Snape decided this to be the best moment to come to his rescue.

"Expelliarmus!" A beam of light hit the axe and wrangled it from the boy's hand. With a loud cluttering noise, it landed on the ground. Severus sneered and looked quite smug.

Albus raised his left in a placating gesture. "That wasn't necess…" The rest of the sentence never left his lips as the young man exploded into action. Drawing the knife from its sheath – it was bigger than expected and looked far more dangerous now – he raced towards Dumbledore. The headmaster tried to lift his wand in haste, but the boy was way too fast, closing the gap far quicker than should have been possible. A second spell missed him, a third was actually deflected by the knife. Albus' wand was barely halfway up as the boy jumped him, grabbing his beard with his left in a very undignified manner and pulling him to the ground. Albus was taller and certainly a couple of stones heavier than the boy. He shouldn't have been able to do this, regardless of Albus' advanced age.

But it didn't stop him. Surprise made Albus loose his grip and the Elder wand left his fingers. The meaning of this little detail, something that hadn't happened for decades, reached his mind only days later. For now, he was far too occupied being forced to the ground by a boy that could easily ruin his life if he was right about his identity, holding a very sharp knife to his throat. _What should I do? By Merlin's beard, what should I do?_

"FREEZE!"

.

Every English-speaking Muggle teenager would have known the meaning of the word and what kind of action – or better non-action – to take. Every muggle criminal would have done the same. Regretfully, the students, teachers and guests belonged to neither group.

Screaming and yelling erupted from all sides. Some students tried to hide, other drew their wands. A couple of teachers did so as well, as did Percy Weasley and Barty Crouch, who readied themselves to spring into action. Severus Snape was only waiting for a clear shot. It required a cannonball spell and a sonorous enhanced "STOP" from Filius Flitwick to stop this mayhem. "Silence," he added. "Everybody sit down. Sit down. Now." His tiny voice growled but nobody laughed. They suddenly remembered that this little man had been a famous and respected duelling champion in former times.

"Mister Weasley, please sit back down," Minerva McGonagall came to his assistance. "You as well, Mister Crouch. Please have a seat."

"He's threatening the headmaster," Crouch growled, while Percy hastily obeyed. It had only been a couple of months since he left the school and following Minerva's orders was far too ingrained in him to do anything else.

"Really," Minerva's voice was dust-dry. "I hadn't noticed. Sit down!" Crouch's cheeks inflamed but he obeyed as well. Only now did Minerva turn towards the situation at hand, trusting Filius to keep an eye on their colleagues. Severus Snape, in particular, looked far too wand-happy right now. "There is no need for this, young man. Kindly release our headmaster. He's a bit too old and frail for rolling around on the floor."

"Fat chance!" The boy spat, prompting Minerva's lips to thin. "First I want answers to a couple of questions."

"Like what?" Actually, Minerva thirsted for some answers as well. This situation was barely tolerable as it was.

"Where am I? Who are you?" He asked without explaining whom he meant. "And why did you summon me?"

"Young man, perhaps…" Albus tried to pipe up, only to be harshly stopped by his manhandler.

"Shut up," he growled, nodding towards Minerva to answer his questions.

"I'm Professor Minerva McGonagall, Transfiguration teacher and Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts."

"So I assume he," he nodded towards Albus, "is your boss." Minerva nodded her agreement. "And this Hogwarts is a school for magic?" Another curt nod. "And exactly where is this school?"

The question drew some gasps. Everybody knew about Hogwarts, didn't they? Where had this boy spent his life so far? Under a stone?

"Hogwarts is in Scotland," Minerva explained calmly, her answer lacking in further details.

"Scotland," the boy frowned. "That's over in Europe, yes?" Minerva blinked.

Unbeknownst to the boy, Albus eyes widened. The answer made it clear: the boy had lived somewhere else, possibly in the USA, despite his accent sounding wrong.

Suddenly the boy's mood lifted. "It's near France, isn't it?"

"Not quite," Minerva responded. "Between Scotland and France lies England and a broad stretch of water."

The boy sighed, sounding disappointed. "Too bad. I have always wanted to visit France." A couple of Beauxbatons students actually smiled at that. His grip had loosened a bit, so he strengthened it again. "Back to my questions. Why, in the Spirits' name, did you summon me?" He looked around. "You really have plenty of teenagers at hand, so I do hope it wasn't to act as your victim in some blood ritual in honour of Samhain."

Minerva paled as did many others. However, she needed only a couple of moments to control her emotions. "Hardly. However, I have to admit I have no idea why and how you appeared among us in such a distressing manner. We certainly didn't summon you." He didn't look convinced in any way. "May I ask you your name?"

The boy narrowed his eyes. Albus, who had so far been content to let Minerva take the lead, giving him some time to ponder the situation, already moved to get in control again with some wandless magic, as the boy's sudden but feared answer stunned him.

"Evans. My name is Harry Evans."

.

Hermione watched her teachers intensely. Some of them didn't react in any way to that statement. Others however…

Minerva paled a little bit and looked far more thoughtful than before, scrutinizing the boy as if she was searching for something. After a while, her expression actually softened. Severus Snape flinched and narrowed his eyes, his stare trying to drill holes into the boy. Filius Flitwick stiffened and mumbled something.

 _Evans_ , Hermione mused. She had read that name before, but where? It wasn't the name of one of the older and renowned families.

She didn't get much time to ponder the questions as Luna chose this exact moment to act. She hummed softly, stood up and left her place, easily dodging Hermione's hands. "Sit down, Luna," Hermione furiously whispered. Naturally, Luna didn't obey or even showed that she heard her words. With all other students still on their seats, Lunas action immediately drew attention.

"Miss Lovegood," Minerva scolded, ignoring the "Looney" mumbles from the Ravenclaw table. "Please return to your seat this instant."

Seeing that the dour professor had no more luck than she before, Hermione cursed and hurried to follow her sister. Luna actually skipped down the hall, still humming some happy melody. Hermione wasn't able to reach her in time, her slight limp hindering her. "Luna … Luna," she whispered-shouted while keeping her hand carefully away from her wand. To her relief the boy didn't look threatened. His expression was more amused than anything, amused and a tad confused. Certainly not an unusual reaction to Luna, Hermione had to admit, and far more sedate than many others in the past. Still, should he try anything against Luna, she would fillet his innards with that knife of his.

"Hello, I'm Luna." She stood barely three steps away from the boy, totally ignoring the headmaster or the other teachers watching her, and smiled her sweetest smile. The boy, who had been tense like a coil spring so far, felt a breeze of calmness wash over him. This girl was a spring of pure happiness like he had rarely felt in his young life.

Harry Evans frowned, hearing some more "Looney" calls from the crowd of students. Then he addressed her, his voice surprisingly soft, his stance more relaxed than before. He couldn't help himself. This girl somehow calmed him like only Jenny had been able to do in the past. "Hello Luna. You know, you should listen to… her." He nodded towards Hermione, who had reached Luna at last and tried to drag her away. Unsurprisingly, Luna resisted stubbornly. "I might be a psycho you never know..." He actually winked at her, earning him another smile. Harry could easily get used to those.

"This is Hermione." Luna introduced sweetly, making Hermione freeze and look like a deer caught by wand-light. "She's my sister, and a bit protective."

Harry's face softened even more and he looked thoughtful. "Sisters usually are. Mine is no different. Hi Hermione."

 _Sister?_ The Headmaster wondered. _Harry has no siblings_.

"Err… hello." stammered Hermione, interrupting her futile attempts to drag Luna away.

The boy didn't seem to want to threaten Luna, but she still glared at him anyway, just in case. And he had such as dangerous looking knife… a bowie knife, actually, she realized.

"I expected you." Luna startled the boy. "Not exactly you, but a… a guest." She nodded to someone invisible. "The Wrackspurts announced your coming."

There was some snickering all around but only curiosity on behalf of the boy. "Wrackspurts?"

"Yes," Luna nodded, staring into the air. Hermione used the moment to start another get-Luna-back-to-her-seat attempt.

"You have the Sight." Harry Evans' voice was incredible soft.

Hermione stopped her attempt and stared dumbstruck. This reaction she hadn't expected.

Neither affirming nor denying his statement, Luna hummed for a moment before she addressed Harry again. "You know, this isn't necessary." She nodded towards the headmaster under his knife. "Wouldn't it be more comfortable to continue the conversation upright or even sitting?"

"I happen to agree," Headmaster Dumbledore piped up from the ground. "why don't we continue the conversation in my office. Around a cup of tea, perhaps?" He really wanted to get out of here and have a chance at getting the situation under control again.

Harry Evans glanced around once more. He looked thoughtful and stayed silent for a while. Glancing towards Luna, who was still humming and looking completely relaxed, he addressed the headmaster at last.

"You'll answer all of my questions?"

"To the best of my knowledge," Albus agreed.

"And you'll allow me to leave without hindering me?"

Albus hesitated for a moment and contemplated the request. "If it is possible, yes." He stopped Harry's complaint by raising his hand a little. "We'll have to see how and why you were summoned by the Goblet."

Harry seemed unhappy but complied with a curt nod. "Will you come with us?" He asked Luna. For the first time he sounded a little shy and insecure.

"She will certainly not," Hermione argued.

"I surely will," Luna happily agreed.

Hermione groaned. She would stay at Luna's side, whatever happened.

Harry Evans actually looked relieved. With smooth moves he sheathed his knife and stood up. Hermione instinctually stepped in front of Luna to shield her, but Harry only offered her his arm. Happily, Luna accepted by skipping around Hermione, while Minerva and Percy hastened at Headmaster Dumbledore's side to help him up.

 _What a mess_ , Hermione silently groaned. _Well, it can only get better now_. She had no idea how wrong she was.

And all the while Headmaster Albus Dumbledore could only think: _how in Merlin's name could this happen? What kind of hellish events could lead to this mess?_

.

 _ **A/N**_

 _Intended order of chapters:_

 _Chapter One: Halloween 1994_

 _Chapter Two to Eight: Events of 1981 to 1994 summer_

 _Chapter Nine+: Events of 1994/95 (fourth year/tournament)_

 _All in all, I expect the story to get about 25-30 chapters and hope to finish it in 2018._

 _I intend to publish a chapter every two weeks._

 _all: yes, there are 2(!) Harry Potters, at least at the beginning. Here is a question for you: would it be better for your understanding of the story, if I started to "mark" the false Harry, for example by writing §Harry§ or something similar? What do you think?_


	2. Chapter 2 The Beginning (years 81-83)

_**A/N**_

 _ **Two Harrys:**_ _regarding chapters 2 to 6 it is easy to tell the difference. The real Harry (Evans) is the one from Canada. The pretend Harry (Potter) is the one from Great Britain._

 _ **Lunar Harmony:**_ _no, I don't intend to write a triangle story. This is about a pure Luna/Harry romance. There will be the beginning of a different Hermione/? Romance, but no Harmony._

 **.**

 **The Beginning (years 1981 to 1983)**

.

 _ **Godric's Hollow (Summer of 1981)**_

.

"Thank you for coming," Lily greeted her friend, stepping aside and allowing Remus to enter in the small but cosy house she called home these days.

"Hello Lily," Remus responded with a tense smile. He hesitated for a moment before moving forward to hug her. Lily seemed happy to have him, unlike her husband who had turned a little frosty over the course of the past months – her apparently very absent husband, Remus noticed. James didn't trust him completely anymore, not like before. The reason: all the time Remus was spending with Fenrir and the other Werewolves. It didn't matter to him, apparently, that Remus only did so under Dumbledore's orders. Remus really missed the much happier and carefree times at Hogwarts.

"Where is James?" He asked, following Lily into the living room. A smile graced his lips as he noticed the quietly sleeping toddler. Harry had turned one year old only three weeks ago – a date he had missed because of his time with the pack.

"Out with Sirius," Lily responded, watching him with slight concern. "You look tired."

"Full Moon," Remus deadpanned. He felt tired. It had only been two nights ago and he was still recovering.

"Ah, sorry, forgot about that."

Remus shrugged. "It's alright." He sat down and accepted a cup of tea. "So, why did you invite me here today?"

Lily flashed a smile: "No pussyfooting, ey? Right to the matter at hand." She turned serious and sighed. "It's about Harry."

"Is he ill?" He immediately looked concerned.

"No," she shook her head. "But…" She hesitated. "Do you know why we're in hiding?"

Remus frowned. "I assumed James and you spoiled some of You-know-who's plans one time too many. He's angry with the both of you, isn't he?" Voldemort was a sore loser. The Prewitt twins were living (errr dying) proof of that.

"Yes, but others are still doing so openly. There is another, more crucial, reason – concerning our Harry, as well as Neville Longbottom." Yes, Remus remembered. The Longbottoms had gone into hiding as well. Lily sat down, gathering her thoughts. "You have to know, there is a prophecy – a prophecy about Harry, or Neville, and … _Him_."

.

"So there is a prophecy about Harry or Neville being supposedly fated to kill You-know-who?" Remus summarized a couple of minutes later. He looked quite pale now. _Damned Albus, why didn't you tell me any of this?_ Lily nodded.

"And _He_ knows of it?"

"Yes," Lily agreed. "I don't know how, but Albus is certain that _He_ knows the first half of the prophecy at the very least." She trembled slightly. "He'll try to kill my Harry, Remus."

"Can't Albus protect him?"

Lily frowned. "He put some wards around the house. And he spoke with James about erecting a Fidelius to increase protection."

"Sounds good," Remus nodded, worry lines on his face. The Fidelius Charm was certainly one of the strongest possible wards outside of Hogwarts. "Who'll be secret keeper then?"

"Sirius," Lily answered, sounding unhappy.

Remus face turned a little stony. Sirius had been the one who got James suspicious of him. Right now, he didn't like him very much either. Nonetheless, Sirius was utterly loyal to James and should be a good choice, especially as he was a widely feared duellist. But he was the _obvious_ choice, such a tempting target too.

The two friends sat in thoughtful silence for a while, nipping at their tea while watching the still sleeping boy.

"It won't be enough," Lilly proclaimed, suddenly breaking the silence. Answering his questioning look, she continued: "but, I have some ideas… I already put a blood ward on Harry."

He gasped but said nothing. A blood ward was in a way even stronger than a Fidelius. It protected against dark spells and would deflect the attack, even the strongest ones if the sacrifice was worthy enough. Remus suppressed a sob, realizing that Lily wouldn't hesitate for a second to sacrifice herself for her son. Albus wouldn't be happy to learn about this. He would compare it to Dark Magic, but Remus understood her wish to do everything to protect her son.

"And I want you to take care of him."

Remus frowned and watched her as she fetched an envelope from her pocket, offering it to him. He opened the envelope and pulled a few sheets of paper from it. Some of them looking like official documents – Muggle documents. His eyes widened as he realized their content. "You can't… does James know… you can't be serious."

"I'm deadly serious," her expression was pure determination now. "I don't trust Albus in this matter. And I don't trust in Sirius' ability to raise Harry the right way should… should something happen to both of us."

Remus gulped and read the documents a second time. "Harry Evans?"

Lily nodded. "James isn't well known in the Muggle world. Nor is our marriage official over there. We haven't had the opportunity to take care of that until now. Officially I'm a single mother, and Harry's father remains unknown." Her face hardened. "Those documents are official. I really hope we'll never need them but should… should we die; you'll become Harry's adoptive father. I want you to take him away, away from Albus' thumb and all this mess."

"And you really want this?" Remus didn't hesitate to accept the task. He only wanted to be certain of her decision.

"Do I want this? Certainly not. But the precaution is necessary, I think. Do you accept the duty?" She looked so fragile at that moment; Remus had no choice but to say yes.

.

 _ **Little Whinging – November the 2**_ _ **nd**_ _ **1981**_

.

Careful not to wake up anybody, Remus opened the door and slipped into the house. He had learned how to break locks the Muggle way years ago, an heritage of his youth as a Marauder. Sirius had been the best at this kind of things, but the door lock of the Dursley home was simple enough.

 _Sirius_ – hate like he never felt before burned in his chest. Only once, fifth year ago, had he been this angry when Sirius nearly killed Severus Snape by trapping him with him, a freshly changed Werewolf. _He killed them_. Remus clenched his fists; his eyes glowing in golden amber. He wanted to kill Sirius, to rip him apart, to punch his claws into Sirius' chest and crunch his black, traitorous heart.

 _But he couldn't_. Remus shuddered. He had other duties. And unlike Sirius he knew his priorities. He had to leave revenge to others, even if it killed him. Harry came first – now, tomorrow and for the next two decades. Lily had trusted him, more than Sirius, more than James' judgement and certainly more than Albus. He would never betray this trust, irrespective of how much it hurt him.

Two days ago, she had died, protecting her son just like she feared. James, his brother, had died as well. And Sirius was to blame. Both Sirius and Albus were. The Potters should have left the country ages ago. It hadn't been right to keep them around, not with _Him_ hunting them so forcefully. And now they were dead. Voldemort was dead as well, or vanquished anyway. There was no body left of him, according to Minerva, so there remained reasonable doubts.

Minerva – her name instantly brought a smile onto his face, a rare sight these days. She had been as angry as Remus, spitting and hissing like a cat on fire. His old teacher had been the one telling him where to find Harry. She had warned Albus several times not to leave Harry with _those Muggles_. Unsurprisingly, he hadn't listened. No, the Great Albus Dumbledore was above mistakes. Unlike us, mere mortals, he was infallible. Remus had shown her the papers, told her about the plan – Lily's plan. The fiery redhead had been Minerva's favourite, like James had been Albus'. Minerva had been relieved and supportive right on. And she had trusted him enough to allow him to obliviate the whole meeting from her mind.

" _Albus can't know about this," Minerva had been adamant. "He would try everything to stop you. Haven't you heard? Harry was the one defeating Voldemort – the boy-who-lived, the chosen one." She was spitting fire again. "He'll parade him around as our heaven-sent saviour. We can't allow this to happen."_

And now he was in the house that Lily's sister called home. Remus looked around. Far too clean for his taste. And reeking of citrus too. Searching the house, he peeked into every room. First the main sleeping room, with Petunia and her husband snoring peacefully. Then there was a nursery. A healthy boy if a bit pudgy, smiling and clean, with a stuffed teddy near his chubby arms. But it wasn't Harry.

 _Where are you, Harry?_

A last room – an empty guest room, it had been unused for a while according to the layer of dust settling in. Remus stepped into the corridor once more. Had he overlooked a door? Quietly, he searched the house for other rooms, but apart from a pantry and a small store room there was…

 _Sobbing_ – there was a low sobbing noise. Without his sub-human sense of hearing he would have missed it. Remus followed the noise downstairs and to a small cupboard door. Oh, they wouldn't… would they? She was Lily's sister! Despite their past differences he didn't want to believe Petunia would be so spiteful as to leave her nephew, an infant who had just lost his parents, in a cupboard! He opened the door. The stench of faeces reached his nose.

"Oh, Harry," he whispered. The toddler was awake, his green eyes piercing the darkness. Remus' heart stopped, those were Lily's eyes. "Moo'ey," Harry blinked, his little arms reaching for Remus. With soft hands he lifted the boy from his crib. He scrunched his nose because of the smell though. Remus would take care of that as soon as possible. For now, he had to leave this hellhole. Prior to his visit, he had hoped Petunia would turn into a better mum than a sister. He had even wondered for a moment whether Albus had been right about placing Harry with his only blood relatives. But not anymore, with this terrible sight burning his eyes. Yes, they had to leave – this house, Little Whinging and even Great Britain. He had to keep Harry away from Albus' horrific influence.

First things first. Remus pulled a small amulet from his pocket, something Lilly had prepared for this moment. Lily had definitely been a favourite of Filius Flitwick as well, her talent in Charms even surpassing her impressive grasp of Transfiguration and Potions. The tiny but ingenious charms professor had helped her prepare this. With Minerva being obliviated, Filius remained the only witness. It had been a necessary risk. Only with Filius' help had it been possible to create a remedy to protect Harry from any scrying attempt by the meddlesome headmaster. The use of this amulet would break his link to those silver tools Albus used to monitor Harry – the tools Lilly know had once belonged to the Potter family for generations. Even Filius wouldn't be able to use a successful locating spell on Harry any longer. The little tyke would be protected and well-hidden.

Remus sighed and put the amulet around Harry's neck. "I revoke the Potter family protection accorded to you. From now on you are my son and I am your father. From this day onwards and unless you wish otherwise you will be called Harry Evans."

.

Hundreds of miles away, in the dark of the night and only watched by a couple of sleeping paintings, a faintly buzzing silvery instrument stopped to work. It didn't explode. It didn't even fume or screech. It only stopped its never ending work of watching over the Potter family. There was no more Potters among the living.

.

 _ **Longbottom Hideout – November 1981**_

.

Albus entered the cottage without sparing a glance at the Lestranges. Bellatrix Lestrange, née Black, her husband and brother-in-law had been apprehended red-handed, in the hidden cottage Albus had offered to the Longbottoms as a hideout.

"Barty Crouch Junior is in the back room," one of the senior Aurors whispered. Albus nodded, silently watching the mediwitches take care of Alice and Frank Longbottom. It didn't look good. The Lestranges had tortured them for hours, attempting to break their will, to get information about the demise of their late Dark Lord – information the Longbottoms didn't possess from the start. Albus sighed. Barty Crouch junior – what a mess! The political fallout would be immense. While he didn't like the father all too much – Barty Crouch senior was far too eager to use any means, even the darkest of spells, to battle Voldemort's cohorts – he had been a steadfast ally.

He didn't have time for this. He had to be out there, continuing his secret search for Harry. After the Potters' expected death and Sirius' fortunate imprisonment, he had placed the boy with his aunt. The blood ward, cast by Lily to protect her son, had done its duty perfectly. And it would continue doing so as long as Harry was around blood relatives. However, barely two days later, he simply vanished without a trace. There was no sign of magic, no hint of whom his abductor was. And even worse, his tracking instruments were unwilling to assist him in any way. It was as if Harry had ceased to exist. Albus felt ill. He needed that boy. The voices got louder and louder every day. The public, so thankful for his killing Voldemort, wanted to see him. Their saviour. He had to find a solution and fast, before anybody found out about his disappearance.

Albus stepped around the Longbottoms and their healers, followed the corridor down to the nursery. Frank had been so proud of his little Neville. Albus stiffened at the sight of the nursery – a very empty nursery, aside from the cadaver of a freshly killed cat. _Neville – where are you?_ Had he been abducted as well? Albus so hoped otherwise.

"Homenum revelio!" The spell revealed a couple of people in the living room, not differentiating between sane mediwitches and insane Longbottoms. Two more signals – Barty and his guard. However, there was another sign – downwards, behind a hastily erected ward. He didn't have to search for long before he found a hidden cellar. He was certain it hadn't been part of the cottage before the Longbottoms moved in. Two minutes later the sought-after boy was in his arms. Poor boy – with his parents unable to take care of him, his grandmother would certainly have to take over his education.

He started to climb the stairs to the nursery, then hesitated and stopped. _No parents_ – in the end Neville had no parents left. Harry was the boy-who-lived, but it could so easily have been Neville. The prophecy could have been about him. He took another step, faltered. He had a missing boy-who-lived and another boy who had no parents. Nobody would miss him. Lady Longbottom – Albus shuddered for a moment but hastily suppressed the impulse of fear. She would be occupied with her son and daughter-in-law's care. _Neville would only be a burden to her_ , he tried to persuade himself. She was too old to take care of a toddler on her own. And it would be better for Neville as well. Dead parents certainly were better than insane ones. For a moment he imagined eleven-year-old Neville visiting his parents on Christmas, their condition a cruel reminder of this very night.

"Professor Dumbledore?" The Auror's voice from above urged him to act fast.

"Fipsy?" He called for his houseelf. Albus had thought about calling Fawkes but wasn't certain how his familiar would react to this plan. The creature of light was a little stubborn sometimes when facing the realities of life. With a plop the tiny creature appeared, eager to serve. "This little man just lost his parents." Fipsy stared sadly at the boy in his arms. "Please take care of him. Take him to my rooms, I'll follow soon enough. And Fipsy: not a word to anybody."

The houseelf vanished, leaving Albus behind in an empty nursery. "You can still be useful," Albus whispered as he fetched the dead cat from the ground. Nobody would seriously examine a dead toddler and he was a master Transfigurist. When the Auror entered the nursery a couple of minutes later, he found Albus sadly staring at the little boy, killed in his crib.

"Please take him to the morgue. I'll inform Lady Longbottom of her grandson's death." The Auror nodded grimly.

"Barty Crouch's wand?" He demanded. The Auror frowned for a second but complied. This was the Chief Warlock. You didn't deny such a demand even if it was slightly illegal.

"I want to speak to him – alone." The Auror nodded. It wasn't a surprise. Clearly, Albus Dumbledore would wish to learn about the man's reasons not only to betray the light but his own father as well. The Auror had no wish to be the one explaining the "catch of the day" to his boss.

Albus entered the room. Barty Crouch junior was bound and gagged, glaring daggers at him and looking slightly mad. This would be easy. A little memory charm and a suffocating spell. Everyone would believe that they had not only tortured the parents into insanity but also killed the boy.

 _Poor Longbottoms – what a dire fate._

.

 _ **British Columbia/Canada – Summer of 1983**_

.

"Wake up, Harry," Remus gently shook the sleeping boy. "We're nearly there."

Three-year-old Harry yawned mightily. He turned around to have a sleepy look out of the bus' mud-covered windows. Scrunching his nose, he whined a little. "Everything is so green. There's only trees out there – don't they have any houses in Canada?"

Remus chuckled at his antics and the older couple to the left watched the boy with soft smiles. "Be nice, Harry. And they do have houses, you know that. But the village is in the middle of a forest. Don't you like forests?"

"Don't know," Harry shrugged like he didn't care. "Are there any bears in there? Or wolves?" Harry loved wolves. They were his absolute favourite animal. Sometimes, Remus wondered if it was because of his own furry little problem.

"There are wolves," the elderly man agreed. "Quite a few even. Are you afraid of wolves?"

"Nope," Harry plopped the 'p'. "Wolves are cool."

"I like bears better," the man responded. "But wolves are alright."

Speaking of bears and wolves, Remus asked: "do you know someone called Paul Masterson by any chance? We wanted to visit him and were told he lives around here."

"He lives over there." The elderly lady answered, pointing towards a wooded hill more than a mile away from the village the bus was entering. "You should ask Michiko or Jenny to lead you there. It's a bit hard to find for the first time." She gestured towards a wooden building looking like a 19th-century village school. The whole village reminded him of Walnut Grove, actually, the setting of the "Little House on the Prairie" series.

"I'll sure do that then, many thanks."

.

Fetching their things and walking towards the building, Remus took a careful look around. As expected, more than half of the inhabitants seemed to be of Native Canadian descent like the elderly couple in the bus they had taken from Vancouver. However, there were many white and black Canadians as well, and even a number of Asians. Michiko certainly sounded Japanese. Despite his earlier whining, Harry breathed in the sight like a drowning man did fresh air. His eyes were wide and wore an equally broad smile. Remus had spoken about this place for weeks, and hoped to make it a steady home for the boy. Harry needed it after two years on the run.

The past two years had been both better and worse than expected. Lily's groundwork had been meticulous. He had been able to adopt Harry without a bump. Officially, he was now Harry Evans-Howell. Remus had chosen to change his own name to Howell, after his late mother, when they entered the USA. Soon after their arrival, they had left the East coast behind. There simply were too many links to 'good ol' England', too many chances to be seen by someone in Albus' pocket. For months they had toured around, searching for a place to stay. They made many friends on the way, but it was never enough in the end.

Some places had been violently against Werewolves, not even allowing him to stay for a single night. Then, down in Arizona, there had been that bloke, living on his ranch like a small king. He had been nice enough in the beginning. At least, until he started to loudly dream about Remus turning a couple of peasants into Werewolves to create his little own army. It had been a running battle to escape his hungry clutches.

It had been better around the Native Americans of the Middle-West. Most of them had far better relations with his kind. However, it still wasn't enough. Many of them had to live in an even poorer state than him, barely able to scrape together their livelihood. Others had long forgotten their heritage or chosen to turn their sacred places into tourist attractions, complete with many-coloured dances and souvenirs – _truly genuine, I swear_.

He had nearly given up when one of those "Shamans", drinking himself into stupor every night because he had to live like this, had told him about a place high in Canada. "In British Columbia," he told Remus, "you'll find the Kutenai. They're a bunch of tribes, still keeping to the old ways, integrating their own heritage into a more modern life. A friend of mine was there a couple of years ago. There is this village… their Shaman is Paul Masterson. He has been helping your kind in the past. Perhaps he can help you as well."

 _Help his kind? Help Werewolves?_ He didn't dare to hope, but it was a chance he wasn't willing to miss. And perhaps it could be a good place to live, at least for a while. In a few years Harry would need to go to school. Remus smiled, watching the boy. He had his father's hair and his mother's eyes. For a while, he had pondered the possibility of doing a blood adoption ritual. It would hide him even better. But the changes would be irreversible, so he decided against it in the end. He wanted to protect Harry, not take his parents away from him. Sooner or later he would have to tell him about his parents' history, he knew that. _In a few years_ …

.

Harry would never forget the moment he saw his sister Jenny for the first time.

As they neared the school building, he detected a wooden post right next to the small veranda in front of them. Fastened to the post was an old bronze bell and on the post itself, at a height of nearly 10 feet, there she was, standing silent as a stone statue on one leg only, the other one raised so high her foot nearly touched her head. Her eyes were closed and she looked quite relaxed. She looked older than him, perhaps six or seven years old. Her hair was a dark blond with a couple of light blond streaks. Her eyes had a soft brown colour…

 _Eyes_? Hadn't they been closed just a moment before?

"You're breathing too loudly." She scolded them, sounding unamused like only a small girl was able to. She was clearly interested now. She scrunched her nose. "You're new." She left her stance and put her foot down, but stayed on top of the post.

"Sorry," Remus replied with a grin. "And yes, we are." He watched her for a moment. "Isn't that a little risky? Is your mother alright with you doing your… acrobatics?"

She rolled her eyes. "She sent me up here, Silly. And it's called meditation." His heart missed a beat as she jumped down gracefully, barely making a noise as she landed. "And who are you?" She asked Harry, while Remus still tried to digest her little stunt.

"I'm Harry." He grinned. Remus was a little surprised. Usually the boy was shy around foreigners, children even more so than adults. Now however he looked relaxed.

"Don't you want to know my name as well, little lady?" Remus wondered. "What is your name by the way?"

"I'm Jenny," she answered and grinned. "And I know your name already. It's Silly." Harry giggled.

The girl grabbed his hand and dragged him towards the school. "I'll show you to my mum. She's the best." Shaking his head at her antics, Remus followed her into the building. It was quite bright indoors, brighter than it should have been with only small windows letting the sunlight in. It was nearly like the walls, painted like a forest with the ceiling being the sky, emitted light on their own. He stared at them for a moment. They actually did. He detected small runes that intensified the light reflection.

"Newer studies came to the result that it's better for children to have a brightness of at least 300 to 500 Lux indoors, else they develop short-sightedness."

He whirled around. The Japanese lady in Kutenai garbs was quite the beauty. Nearly thirty years old and looking a tad more athletic than most Asian ladies he had met so far, she stared at him with curiosity. There was nothing to be seen of the children however.

"They're playing in the break room," she answered his unspoken question. Offering her hand, she introduced herself: "I'm Michiko, by the way, the village teacher."

"I'm Remus Howell." He accepted her hand. Her grip was surprisingly strong. She smelt of cat, he noticed, having an aura around her like Minerva had. _A cat Animagus?_ He wondered. "Someone told me to ask you to be my guide. I would like to visit Paul Masterson."

She stared thoughtful at him for a moment. Apparently, she liked what she saw, because she relaxed and nodded. "I can do that."

.

"Please wait out here. You as well, little lady." Michiko left to enter a cave of all things, ignoring Jenny's pout. The small girl didn't stay annoyed for long though. She dragged Harry away, telling him this and that about the forest, explaining what the trees were, what they liked, and needed or not. For her, it seemed, trees were beings with feelings, just like humans. Harry thought he would hate to see her around wood cutters. And for the first time since months, Harry appeared really happy and content. He told Jenny about the Maple trees of the East and the Cactus of the South, sharing notes with the girl and discussing if Maples had other kinds of emotions than Firs. It was an amusing sight.

"Hello Remus, please come in." Remus startled. How could a man so huge this move so silently? Despite his better than average hearing, he hadn't noticed him leave the cave. Paul Masterson was a giant of a man, smaller than Hagrid for sure, but certainly towering over most others with his nearly seven feet. Like Hagrid he had a bushy full beard and long hair, but his were brown-grey. His weight was certainly around 300 pounds, made more of muscles than fat. Remus had expected leather clothes and some kind of claws-and-feathers necklace from the Shaman. Paul didn't disappoint in that matter, and his cave was equally an anthropologist dream come true. There were even old paintings on the wall depicting some hunting scenes.

Michiko was standing in a little side cave, preparing some tea , while Paul lead Remus to a group of wooden seats with furs for cushions. "Have a seat," Paul offered politely. "And tell me, Remus, why you came to my door."

.

 _ **Three days later**_

The tribal council had met. Remus had been surprised to see two non-Natives among them: Michiko and a soft-spoken French-Canadian whose aura seemed far older than he looked. Paul introduced Remus, who he was given a chance to speak for himself. He had been quite open, telling them the truth about Harry, and that he adopted him. Most of all however, he had told them his reason for coming, and why he wished to stay.

"We need a safe place to stay. The boy needs a home, friends and, in a couple of years, a school . His parents were killed only two years ago. They knew about the danger they were in and his mother begged me to take care of him, to take him away to another country." It hadn't been a lie, as he really wanted to avoid those. However, he equally still protected Harry's true name in case Albus' influence reached this far.

Now he had to wait outside, still able to listen thanks to his impressive hearing. A couple of minutes ago, he thought he had heard someone sneaking around, but there was nobody to be seen. Remus shrugged and eavesdropped again.

.

"But can't you help him?" Michiko wondered. She had been the most outspoken for his case. While Remus had been with Paul for the last three days, Harry had stayed with Jenny and Michiko and the girl had obviously befriended him already. Remus would really hate to separate them.

"Not like you," Paul answered with a sad sigh. Remus' eyes widened. Michiko was a Werewolf as well? But she didn't feel like a wolf. "He's different."

"Different how?" The French-Canadian asked. "Because of the nature of his magic?" Remus frowned. He had already noticed the differences in magic between Paul and him. To make room for Harry, Remus had offered to cast an expansion charm. Michiko had denied such a thing and begged Paul to do something else. Putting his hands against the wall, it looked like he communicated with the wooden building. And the building reacted. It was as if it grew some appendage, modelling it into a new room. It took longer than an expansion charm and it created a real room that could be seen from outdoors, but with space not being a matter, it certainly was a more natural solution. And it actually looked like the room had been there from the start; even the age of the wood and the painting was no different than the rest of the house.

Paul nodded. "His magic is… not tainted, but changed through his long use of wands. It's not coming naturally to him anymore. It's all about being in control and suppressing accidental magic. It's like a tourist trying to learn our dances. They can learn the moves, but it still won't be the real thing."

"But some of us use wands as well – or at least similar things." It was an older woman speaking now. She had been very quiet when Remus pleaded his case, glaring at him like an intruder. Despite her claim, he hadn't seen any wands so far, but a couple of Kutenai and even the French-Canadian wore daggers or some kind of wooden rattle. The Eldest even had a long wooden stick with a loop at its end, not unlike a shepherd's stick.

"It's different," Paul explained. "All of you first learned to be one with your magic. Magic comes freely and naturally to you. It's a part of you, a sense like hearing and touching, an act like breathing. Magic and you are one. For him it is different. They are told from the start that it is dangerous not to be the one in control. They use wands, words and gestures like crutches. Most of them can't use any magic at all without those."

"So you can't do anything for him?" Michiko asked. Remus got the feeling that she didn't like the idea of separating the children any more than he did.

Paul was silent for a minute before he spoke again. "I could teach him some meditation technics, to be closer to the wolf. However, it would never be like with you, or the others. He tried to suppress his inner wolf for his whole life instead of becoming one with him. Now it will always be Remus in control OR the wolf, two souls sharing one body."

.

It continued like this for a while, but it soon became clear, that they would at best allow him to stay for a couple of weeks or months. Only as long as Paul needed to teach him what he thought possible. In Remus' opinion this was the worst possible outcome. Harry would get even more attached to Jenny and Michiko – whom he already addressed as 'Aunt Michiko' – and the departure would be even more difficult.

He already wanted to accept his fate and pondered about how to break the news to Harry, when someone entered the room from the other side. There were some gasps and Michiko growled. "What are you doing here, young lady?" _Jenny!_

"You can't send them away." There was a little fear but far more determination in her voice. Remus wondered if he would have dared to address such a meeting at her age. Supposedly not.

"Jenny," Paul tried to assuage her. "It's better…"

"No, it is not," she growled not unlike her mother, her anger overruling her fear. Despite not being blood relatives, they certainly shared their temper. "Harry has to stay here. He is my brother and I have to protect him from the dark men." She was utterly in protective older sister mode right now.

Remus paled. _What dark men?_

"What do you mean, Jenny," the elderly woman asked, surprisingly calm despite the interruption of the 'adult business'. Remus was certain a meeting of British Elders would have ended quite differently.

"The Dark Men killed his parents and they will try to kill him as well if they find him. He'll stay here and I will teach him how to hunt and fight." Remus bit on his lip, trying to imagine what a six-year-old knew about hunting and fighting. It was obvious, however, that Harry understood far more of his own history than Remus had assumed.

"I already learned how to trap hares with a sling." Remus' eyes widened at the sound of Harry's voice. "And I know how to find carrots and berries. They're not ripe yet, by the way," he added. Remus noticed that Harry's articulation had improved by leaps and bounds since their arrival, certainly because of Jenny's example.

The elderly woman chuckled softly. "Very good, Harry. That will certainly help you in life."

Remus imagined Harry's nod. "Jenny's a good teacher."

"I'm sure she got that from her mother," the lady agreed while Michiko muttered something under her breath.

"Harry," the French-Canadian softly interjected, "please come here." Remus heard soft steps. He really wanted to get in there, but he didn't dare. "Does this scar hurt?"

"Nope," Harry denied. "It actually feels good most of the time."

"And when does it hurt?" Remus wondered this as well. Harry had never told him about the scar hurting him.

"When I'm angry."

"I see. Do you know where you got that scar?"

"Remus told me I got it from the man that tried to kill me, the man who killed my parents." Remus hadn't told much about it, but at least the basics, when Harry started to ask questions a couple of months ago. He wanted to wait until Harry was older before he explained the details of his adoption.

"I can feel it, you know. It's the protection of your mother. It is still there, still protecting you. You're feeling better around Remus – safer. Am I right?"

"Yes," Harry agreed. "And it's like this near Michiko and Jenny as well."

"It's the strongest around Jenny now, isn't it?" The French-Canadian continued. Harry agreed again. For a while there was only silence, apart from Jenny traipsing around a little in her impatience. "You should go, Jenny." The French-Canadian stopped her with objection. "It's late, and the both of you need your sleep. Else he won't be able to learn anything from you tomorrow. I'm certain Michiko will find something for the both of you to do in reprimand for your nightly excursion."

"You can bet," Michiko growled.

Jenny ignored that part for now. "He can stay?" She asked full of hope.

"We'll have to speak with Remus, but I think it will be for the best."

"Thank you, Martin," Jenny screeched, according to the sounds impacting on his chest like a missile.

"Enough of this, Jenny. Go to bed. You as well, Harry. We'll speak in the morning."

The children left, happily holding hands and grinning broadly as they passed Remus.

"Do come in, Remus," the French-Canadian called Martin invited him back.

 _Another round, another chance._

.

"I can feel the magic of his mother around the scar." Martin started without hesitation.

"Lily… his mother, she used family magic to protect him," Remus explained reluctantly.

"It was far more than that," Martin rejected the explanation. "She used motherly blood magic to bind her life force to him. She sacrificed herself for his protection." Remus paled about how much this foreigner had been able to unveil from simply looking.

"She knew about the danger and did her best to make certain he survived the attack," the Werewolf explained.

"Does he know it was him they were after?" Remus shook his head.

"I supposed not. I believe it is to early for him to learn about that part. However, there are still traces from both parts of magic in his head, from the dark curse that was used against him and his mother's ward containing it."

Remus gulped. "There is a sliver of Volde… of his magic in Harry's head?"

"Yes," Martin continued. "And both spells are battling for dominance. They will continue doing so until the battle is settled – one way or other."

"How can I help him?" Remus asked, hoping for a solution.

"WE will help him through our example. Only Harry can decide who will win in the end. And that will take years."

"But how? Can't we… I don't know, remove the bad part?"

"No," Martin rejected his plan. "You can no more remove that dark spell from him than you could cut dark emotions from his soul. The ward of his mother and the curse of that would-be killer – both cling to his good and his bad sides. He'll need to find his own way. To decide whether he wants to be a beacon of light or a Lord of darkness. An act of pure light or darkness will be the decisive factor. Whatever he chooses, it will be the end of that magical battle as well."

"Will the dark try to influence him?" Remus was concerned.

"It will try to make him angrier and more violent, that for sure. He'll need Michiko and Paul to learn how to stay calm. And most of all he'll need you and Jenny to never forget what love is. You're his family. Your presence will strengthen his mother's spell."

"I thought it would require the presence of blood relatives." According to Minerva, that had been Albus' explanation for leaving Harry with his aunt.

"No, that was only the beginning. His mother loved him more than her own life. The ward needs love and the wish to protect him to grow stronger, not simply blood." Martin looked around with a silent question in his eyes. One by one, the elders nodded.

"Stay with the Kutenai, Remus Howell. Perhaps you didn't find the salvation you were hoping for, but we will do our best to help little Harry."

.

 _ **Hogwarts – same time**_

.

"Hello Molly, hello Arthur," Albus greeted the couple with a smile on his lips and twinkling eyes as they entered his office. "I want you to meet someone."

He opened a side door and gestured for a boy to enter the room.

"Molly, Arthur, this is Harry Potter."

.

 _ **A/N**_

 _More about the Weasleys and "Harry Potter" in the next chapter._

 _ **Kutenai/Native American**_ _etc: I've no real grasp of that culture. It's only book/internet knowledge I use. So, if I get something wrong, please don't be offended, but tell me if something should be changed._


	3. Chapter 3 Growing up (1983-1991)

**A/N**

 _This chapter will be shorter than I would like. Certainly, I could have expanded the descriptions of these events into a story of its own. However, the story is about Harry's fourth year at Hogwarts and not so much about the events of his childhood. So, I had to cut it short. I hope that'll be alright with you._

 _My second reason for keeping this part shorter is my experience with similar stories I read in the past. Far too often I found it tiresome to read 15+ chapters about Harry's childhood, especially when the intention is to show the later events as well. And far too often the writer lost his spark too early, abandoning the story or massively shortening it at the end._

 _So, I hope it's alright that there will be things I only hint at in these first chapters instead of describing them in deep._

 **.**

 **Growing up (years 1983 to 1991)**

.

 _ **Hogwarts – 1983 (Harry Potter)**_

.

" _Hello Molly, hello Arthur," Albus greeted the couple with a smile on his lips and twinkling eyes as they entered his office. "I want you to meet someone."_

 _He opened a side door and gestured for someone to enter the room – a small boy with black messy hair and brown eyes._

" _Molly, Arthur, this is Harry Potter."_

.

Their reactions were as expected. Molly Weasley gushed over the boy, frightening him more than anything else, while Arthur stayed back, watching his wife with a mix of fondness and embarrassment.

"He's so small. Is he eating enough? Where does he live? Who takes care of him?" The rapid-fire questions got answers in a more sedate way.

"Remember, Molly, he's three only. I believe even young Ronald is only half a year older than him. I agree that he could use a bit more flesh on his ribs though. He lived with his aunt so far." Albus sighed exaggeratedly. "Minerva had been right about them. She warned me. I have to admit I didn't listen then. They didn't take care of him as well as I expected them to." Gently he put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'm sorry for putting you there, Harry. I intend to make up for it in the future." The boy looked hopeful but still anxious, watching the adults around him with wide, brown eyes.

"They didn't abuse him?" Molly gasped, calming a little as Albus shook his head.

"No, but they ignored him; no cuddling, no playing and certainly not enough love all around. When I visited him last week to celebrate his third birthday, I noticed the state of things and decided to try something else."

Actually, Albus had been constantly well-informed about the situation at Privet Drive 4. Minerva had warned him about the family's attitude towards magic from the start, an attitude that didn't change after the whole disaster with the real Harry being abducted. A little memory charm had been enough to take care of the two weeks without a Harry in Petunia's care – or the different eye colours. In the beginning, the situation had been ideal for his plans. Harry would grow up a troubled boy, unloved, and without friends. He would look up to Albus as his saviour, the one that got him out of that living hell. However, the situation had escalated over the years. There had been beatings, his instruments told him, and some quite serious injuries. While he wanted the boy to be malleable, it wouldn't do to risk permanent injuries or possible death from abuse. Not that he would tell Molly – or Minerva, Merlin beware – about the physical abuse. The consequences would be… unpleasant. Minerva was quite protective of the boy.

So, he decided to try another tack. Harry would live with the Weasleys, grow up with Molly as his mother, Ron his older brother and Ginny as his future girlfriend. The Weasleys were steadfast supporters of the light and, more importantly, completely loyal to him. A weak-willed Harry would learn to depend on stubborn Ron's friendship, making it easy for Albus to mould him into the boy he would need further down the road.

"Arthur," Albus announced quite seriously, "I have a big request to make."

"We'll take him in," Molly interrupted, before Albus had a chance to ask. This went even easier than expected. Albus eyes twinkled happily.

"Are you sure, Molly-wobbles?" Arthur asked, obviously unsure about how to support another child. Bill had only started Hogwarts a year ago and money would be scarce for a couple of years. Molly however wanted nothing of that and insisted on taking him in.

"He needs a real family, a real mother." Lily had never been a real mother in Molly's eyes, but she kept silent about that, for now. "It's the only thing we can do, Arthur, the right thing."

Arthur nodded slowly. Albus smiled proudly.

 _I love it when a plan comes together._

.

 _ **The Burrow – over the years (Harry Potter)**_

.

"There are no Snorkabble Wubble-thingsies out there," Ron sneered.

Seven-year-old Ron Weasley didn't like the blond girl. He didn't like her stupid stories and most importantly he didn't like her friendship with _his_ Harry. Headmaster Dumbledore wanted him to be Harry's big brother, to show him what was right and wrong, and he intended to do just that. Headmaster Dumbledore was always right, his Mother told him. And the headmaster got him sweets and big presents on his birthdays. He didn't like Harry to have friends aside from the Weasley family. Cedric Diggory wasn't welcome anymore, and now he would take care of that silly girl with those wild stories that got him a headache.

"There are Snorkacks and Nargles and…" the small girl whined with teary eyes.

"Noooo," Ron singsonged. "I'm right, Harry, am I not?"

Harry's eyes widened. He really wished to be somewhere else and not be involved in this mess. He liked Luna. She was sweet and gentle, and she never hurt a soul, be it human, animal or plant. Ron however was his big brother. He protected Harry, he showed him right and wrong, warned him of dark wizards and slithering snakes. While Harry didn't like to see Luna in tears, he wouldn't betray Ron, he simply couldn't lose him.

"Ron is right," Harry stated his voice a little low and unsteady. He didn't dare to look Luna in the eye.

"Told you so," Ron grinned smugly.

Hearing Luna's sob, Harry glanced up only to wish he hadn't. There was only hurt and betrayal in her eyes. "Go away, you're stupid," Ron jeered.

"You're mean," Luna sniffled and run away.

Harry felt worse than ever before in his life, but Ron was happy. "Now we can play real games. No stupid girls bugging us anymore. Come on, let's go."

Harry watched Luna's departing figure for a moment before he followed his brother. _I hope this was the right thing to do._

.

"You're really bad at this." Ron frowned. They had been allowed to use the brooms of Fred and George for the afternoon. A couple of months ago, Charlie had tried his best to teach them how to fly, after weeks of Ron nagging his mother. Like all Weasleys, Ron was quite the talented flier, not on par with Charlie and Bill at his age but far better than Harry's awful attempts.

The adoptive Weasley had been successful in hitting the ground three times already. Luckily he had only got a couple of bruises so far, nothing their mother needed to know. She would only be concerned, without reason. Ron frowned. Molly Weasley hated seeing Harry in pain even more than her own children. There would be yelling and whining and in the end she would forbid them to fly until Hogwarts.

Harry looked downtrodden. After all those stories about his father and what a wonderful Quidditch player he had been – "James could have played professionally, I tell you" – he had hoped to have inherited a bit of his talent. Obviously, he got more after his mother. According to Molly, Lily Potter had never liked flying very much. Harry sighed. It was no secret that Molly didn't care very much for his late mother. He had overheard a couple of talks between Molly and Arthur about how Lily hadn't been good enough for James. Arthur had mostly stayed silent and allowed his wife's ranting, only putting his foot down when it got too bad. Harry liked Arthur better, but he knew he had to love Molly as well and felt bad because he didn't. More than once, he had imagined how life would be with his real mum. One of his most precious possessions was a picture of Lily Potter he got from Aunt Minerva. It was carefully hidden, so as not to annoy Molly.

"Don't feel bad, mate," Ron clapped his shoulder. "We can't all be first-class flyers."

Ginny snickered, ignoring Ron's glare. She wasn't allowed to fly, according to her mother's wishes. Luckily her older brothers felt different. It had been Charlie who showed her the ropes the summer after his first year at Hogwarts. In her opinion, she was already on level with Fred and George, certainly better than Ron could ever hope to be. _First class flyer, yeah right..._

"Go away, little girl," Ron sneered. Ginny walked away, still glaring. She still hadn't forgiven how Ron had destroyed her friendship with Luna. Her blond friend hadn't returned after that fight, and Molly hadn't allowed Ginny to visit her former friend either, without really explaining why. She was angry with Harry as well, because he sided with Ron back then. Still, she felt more pity than anything else. Harry was unhappy, she could see that. Everybody expected him to be some kind of hero, assumed he would like adventures and doing all those stupid boy-things Ron loved so much. However, he was a soft and calm boy. He liked to read, to work in the garden and to be by himself – without the usual Weasley racket and certainly without loud words and quarrels.

Molly wanted to see Ginny getting closer to Harry. The redheaded girl had no doubts about her mother's wishes to set up a marriage one day, binding the boy permanently to her family. Ginny, however, had her doubts about the idea. While she liked Harry, she didn't respect him nor see him as an equal in spirit or temper. He was intelligent, yes, but that wasn't enough in the long run. He had money as well, certainly quite a bonus. The Weasleys had already profited from that. While not exploiting Harry's wealth, they got some stipend for supporting him. They didn't throw around their money, but according to Bill and Charlie it was well ahead of former years' poverty. Like any other girl, Ginny liked shopping and would be happy to marry rich, but it wasn't the decisive factor in her eyes. She dreamt of a dragon-slaying prince sweeping her off her feet and living close to Harry for the past years had been enough to show her that he wasn't dream-prince material.

"Let's try again," Ron ushered Harry, ignoring his pained expression.

Ginny's eyes followed them for a while before she returned to the house. _I hope he doesn't break his neck._

.

"Are you alright, Augusta?"

The elderly lady smiled weakly and accepted a cup of tea. "Not really," she admitted. "It's that time of the year."

Molly understood perfectly. She was in full preparations mode for Harry's birthday. It would be mostly the Weasley family, but a couple of close friends as well. Albus, Hagrid and Minerva would be among the visitors, but not Filius. The small Charms professor always found some excuse not to be around, despite him having been a close friend and mentor of Lily. _Perhaps it hurts him too much seeing Harry_ , she mused. She knew it was the same for Augusta. Watching Harry, especially around his birthday, reminded her of her own loss. It had been a tragedy with Neville dying so young.

"How are Frank and Alice?" Augusta had stopped on her way home after visiting them at St. Mungo's. It hadn't been for the first time. Something drew her to the Burrow from time to time, irrespective of how much it hurt her to know that the black-haired boy could have been Neville. Had Neville survived, the boys could have grown up like brothers. Perhaps they would be as close as Ron and Harry now. _She had lost so much_.

"Better," Augusta's spirits were lifted a little by that thought. "Alice at least seems to get better. They actually have some hope that she'll… return to us in a couple of weeks."

"We have to keep hoping," Molly nodded and patted her hand.

Augusta smiled thankfully. "Yes, we have to hope."

.

 _ **St. Mungo's – a couple of weeks later**_

.

"Hello Alice," Augusta greeted her daughter-in-law softly. She had hoped for this moment, fearing it all the while.

"Hello Augusta," Alice replied. It was their first meeting after her long sleep.

Augusta fetched herself a chair and sat down at Alice' side. "You look better. Healthier."

"I feel… alright. A little tired perhaps."

"It had to be expected. You've been in that bed for… quite some time." _Years actually_.

They spoke for a while, Augusta being careful not to exhaust Alice. Her daughter-in-law needed her rest but was eager to speak about Frank and how she hoped he would wake up as well. Augusta didn't share that hope, not anymore. The healers had told her months ago that Frank's condition was far worse than Alice'. They didn't expect him to ever recover from his ordeal.

"Augusta," Alice started after a while, staring fearfully. "They… won't tell me about Neville. Where is he? Where is my baby?" Her eyes betrayed her. She already knew the answer, only denied herself the truth.

 _How do I tell her?_ Augusta wondered. _How do I tell her that her baby is dead?_

"Alice, I have something to tell you…"

She stayed very long at St. Mungo's that night, holding the sobbing mother while trying to keep it together herself. _No mother deserved to survive her child's death_.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – the night of Halloween**_

.

"Blasted," in a fit of anger, Albus threw the silver instrument across the room. He only came to his senses when he saw it crashing into the wall, shattering beyond any hope of repair. "Blasted," he repeated, sounding as exhausted and old as he felt.

It had been a stressful day. They had, under the public's watchful eye and in the presence of a dozen reporters, visited the Potter memorial at Godric's Hollow, to honour the dead and to remember the living. Harry had been there, naturally, as had been most of the Weasleys and many friends of the Potter family. Again, there had been no sign of Remus Lupin. And again, he still had no idea about the whereabouts of the real Harry Potter. Perhaps he wasn't even alive anymore. Perhaps he had died years ago and had been buried in some no name grave somewhere. The Potter instruments still refused to work. They didn't even answer the question of whether Harry was still alive. Slowly, all hope was getting lost. The disappearance of Remus and Harry at the same time had been suspicious. However, he had no reason to believe that Remus knew where Harry had been hidden. And, despite Remus magical skills, he wouldn't have been able to hide the boy from Albus' instruments and spells. _No, something different was going on here._

Augusta had been there as well, accompanied by her daughter-in-law for the first time . Alice still needed a wheelchair but she looked better, at least physically. Her eyes were dead, however. Albus felt bad about it. He was neither an evil man nor did he take delight in the hurt of others. He convinced himself that he wouldn't have turned Neville into Harry, had he expected Alice ever to return to the living. Now it was too late for turning back. He wouldn't survive the political backlash.

He had used an alchemical potion back then, one that changed the appearance of a person permanently. It was a little like blood adoption and would even fool Gringotts in a couple of years. At least, he hoped so. He wasn't certain about it however, which is why he had delayed that moment of truth. Back then, Albus had enough biological material from James at hand to turn Neville into James' son. Regretfully, it hadn't been the same with Lily. Neville/Harry now had James' brown eyes instead of Lilly's. Luckily, the Potters had been in hiding after Harry's birth. Only Remus and Sirius could tell the difference. And one had vanished, while the other was a permanent guest in Azkaban. No, by all means, the boy was Harry Potter now.

There was no turning back. Alice would had to learn how to live without her son. _It was all for the greater good._

.

 _ **Canada – Kutenai Country – same years (Harry Evans)**_

.

The years went by quietly in British Columbia. With Paul Masterson's help they had enlarged Michiko's home, allowing the little family to live together. While Harry still called her Auntie, he obviously regarded Michiko as a mother, respecting and loving her in equal measure. He had started to call Remus "Dad", despite the Werewolf's objections. Nobody however was as close to him as his new-found sister Jenny. They were inseparable and there was a huge fuss when Jenny started primary school, forcing her to spend at least a couple of hours per day apart from him. Even so, they were only separated by a couple of yards and a thin wooden wall as she naturally went to Michiko's class for the first school years. More than one morning found Harry sitting in the back of her classroom, silently painting or reading.

Michiko saw a son in him as well, and started to teach him as soon as possible. Not only reading, writing and basics math, but also dancing and acrobatics. Harry soon proved to be quite adept at both, despite not being as gifted as his sister. Meditation didn't come equally easy to him, something he shared with his spirited and slightly hyper-active sister. It was however a special and memorable day when they learned about his greatest talent.

Years ago, when Michiko decided to repay her debt to the Tribe of the Kutenai for helping her with her little furry problem, Not only did she become the village teacher, willing to help the tribe to integrate modern school with ancient rites, but she also started to teach them her very own special brand of magic, something she had brought with her from her homeland Japan. Adept Magic wasn't about casting spells and hurling fireballs at your enemies. It was used to make possible otherwise impossible feats of the body. Improving speed and strength, allowing someone to stride over quicksand without sinking in it, to jump higher than any animal, and break wood and iron with your body – all of this was possible to masters of her art. Some of these abilities even found their way into the myths around Ninjas.

The tribe's youth showed a surprisingly widespread talent for Adept Magic, nearly equalling their talent for the Shamanic Magic taught by Paul Masterson. Many concentrated on one branch of magic only as both demanded an incredible amount of determination. However, most learned at least the basics of the Adept Way, if only to help them with their hunting and woodcraft. A burst of speed was sometimes the difference between getting the prey or watching it flee; and it was not unusual to see a young tribe member meditate for a moment before he simply lifted something, often weighing well above 250 pounds. Jenny was an incredible talented Adept as well, perhaps even more than herself, Michiko recognized very early. On the other hand, Paul had regretfully squashed Jenny's dreams of becoming an accomplished shaman.

One day, seven-year-old Jenny got into trouble, partially because of her fiery temper, partially because a couple of tourist teenagers couldn't hold their liquor. Four-year-old Harry watched with horror how the trouble rapidly escalated from insults to blows. Jenny, after dodging the attacks for a while, got hit and kicked to the ground. The story would have ended there, if not for the young teen's decision to continue kicking the helpless girl, to teach her a lesson. Seconds later he found himself face-to-face with a fully enraged little boy barely reaching his hip. His grin turned into a scream when the boy's tiny fist snapped his kneecap with a single blow. When some tribe members finally converged, drawn by all the screaming, the other teenagers were dragging their comrade away.

"Everything will be alright, Jenny," Harry tried to sooth his sister, the girl whimpering in pain. "Paul will soon be here. He'll help you." The boy didn't notice what was clearly to see for the watching Kutenai. His hands had started to glow weakly, blessing the hurt girl with healing magic. Stunned, the adults watched the children as the bruises slowly vanished and the girl's pain stopped.

It was the same evening that Remus, Michiko and Paul decided to teach Harry both Adept and Shamanic Magic as soon as he was old enough.

.

 _ **Kutenai Village – Spring 1989 (Harry Evans)**_

.

Remus was sitting near the council tent, waiting for Harry's return and pondering about his time among the Kutenai. Regretfully, Paul had been right regarding Remus' ability to learn the Shamanic Way. Unlike Michiko – who as he learned since then wasn't a Werewolf but a full-grown and quite fearsome Weretiger – he had only been able to learn how to stay calm and more accepting of his other side. It helped him in the days before and after the Full Moon and allowed him some control while he changed. "Moony" was still a restless hunter when showing his hide, but he wasn't as dangerous as he had been. It wasn't clever to anger Moony, but at least he wouldn't hurt a member of the tribe or family.

 _Family_ – Remus sighed. Like Harry, he regarded Michiko and Jenny as family. However, while he had no qualms to accept Jenny treating him like a father, he still kept a bit of distance with Michiko. More than once she had suggested to change their platonic relation into something more, but so far, he was too worried about his own nature and future to allow such a dream to turn true. In the eyes of the British Ministry, he had abducted Harry. He knew enough about British Law to realize: they would never value Lily's wishes higher than the simple fact of Harry being James' son, the heir of the House of Potter.

Remus had followed, if not very meticulously, the British press. Apparently, Harry's abduction was still unknown to the broad public. He had been surprised and disgusted to read about the British Harry and his public appearances. Albus, Remus assumed, had somehow been able to present some poor boy to the masses. More than once he had thought about what to do. Ending this mess would only have been possible by the return of not only him but Harry as well. He wasn't ready for that. However, the thought still forbade any closer relationship with Michiko, or so he had decided at least. Michiko didn't share this opinion but accepted it, so far.

Hearing the tent flap, Remus looked up to see the council members leave. Some of them nodded tiredly while others simple departed in silence. Not all of them were happy to have him around, accepting his presence in the village only thanks to Harry.

"He's sleeping now," Paul said while sitting down on a wooden chair. "He did well."

"That's good." Remus sighed, feeling how the tension left his chest. Three years ago, Harry had started to visit primary school. Around Vancouver, the "First Nations Schools Association" had quite an influence on the education of tribe members. They had allowed not only Jenny but Harry as well, to stay with their village friends for as long as possible. Proclaimed honorary members of the Kutenai, they attended the village school from fifth birthday onward to learn reading, writing and maths as well as the way of the Kutenai. Harry had learned to take care of small animals like rabbits, chicken and piglets. He knew how to swing his small axe, how to drill a hole and how to saw. Harry especially loved to carve little wooden figurines for his friends. Michiko had a whole collection of them. There was no tree, plant or herb, no animal big or small in a five miles radius around the village he didn't know by first name. With his ninth birthday however, Harry would enter a new and very different part of his education. Unlike children in Britain, the children of the First Nation started their magical education in the fall after their ninth birthday.

"The plans haven't changed, I assume?" Remus asked, feeling a tad worried about the outcome. Today, the council had gathered to decide the fate of those children that stood ready to start their magical education. It was them who decided if a child was talented and upstanding enough to be trusted with this kind of gift. Every child with a magical core had to learn how to control its magical outbursts, but only if the child in question was reasonable intelligent, determined and responsible did they allow the complete education to happen. Harry was among today's bunch, the only outsider and certainly the one child most speculated about. He had been questioned, tested and led through a spirit quest before the council made their call. As he had never undergone it himself, Remus didn't really know any details of the spirit quest, had no idea what it encompassed. Harry wouldn't be allowed to speak about it and Remus wouldn't ask.

"He'll start his education in August."

So, the council had decided in Harry's favour. Neither Paul nor Michiko had ever doubted it. Remus hadn't either, not really. It had only troubled his mind thinking about how it would stop Harry from visiting Hogwarts in two years. He would never see the Great Hall, never sit in Minerva's class to see her change from majestic cat into a stern woman. There wouldn't be picnics at the Lake, watching the Great Squid. Harry would never sleep in a bed with the name James Potter carved into the bed post, would never borrow a book from the library with "Lily Evans" written into the book's history.

Instead he would follow the path of the Kutenai as Jenny had started to do two years ago. Two days each week, a bus would carry him to Vancouver for the formal and theoretical part, to learn the basics of magical theory and history, how to use Kutenai symbols and a couple of simple spells. The other three days, every student visited one or two other villages, each of them having a different focus. Some of them taught ritual dancing and other customs and traditions of the Kutenai. Others had much to teach about plants and herbs, mundane and magical alike. A couple of villages were renowned for a special branch of magic, however, like the village he was living in. The village was actually renowned for two branches and their teachers: Paul's healing magic and Michiko's way of the adept.

"It wasn't a simple decision," Paul continued. "Harry is unique."

"Even more than we assumed?" Remus tried to joke.

Paul however nodded. "Even more than that." Remus gulped and waited for Paul to continue. "He'll go to school with the others. He'll learn the basics of our magic as he is talented, especially with the spells of awareness and insight. And he'll learn the Way of the Adept from Michiko as well."

Remus agreed wholeheartedly. While he would never be near the raw talent Jenny had shown over the years, Harry was quite talented as well. He already knew more about the Way of the Adept than anybody else his age, mostly thanks to his older sister. Surprisingly, Jenny had been allowed to enter the Kutenai school as well. While she had never been able to cast a single spell so far, she still learned the theory. She liked the stories about the shamans of the past and loved the practical part of animal care and plants. Jenny had quite a knack for dancing and even the most die-hard conservatives among the council members hadn't even tried to keep her away from the tribe's rituals. One of her most impressive gifts however was her Sight, as Harry called it. While Harry would learn how to use spells to increase his senses, how to manipulate magic into tools of recognition, Jenny had similar and even stronger abilities of her own.

Pandora, Remus remembered, had been similar in his time at Hogwarts. Being two years his senior, she had been ridiculed for seeing things nobody else was able to detect. Called a nutter by her own housemates, she certainly had been a lonely girl. Later, it didn't help her reputation when she decided to become the girlfriend of none else than Xenophilius Lovegood, believer in strange animals. They had married just after leaving school, and had a daughter, as far as he knew. Jenny's life would have been equally difficult perhaps, if not for Harry vehemently defending her and Paul announcing – right in front of the whole tribe – that Jenny's Sight was the real thing and a gift from the Racoon, her Spirit Animal. Now she wasn't seen as a freak like Pandora but as spirit-touched.

Spirit Animals – it was something he had learned while staying among the Kutenai. Every human had one, but only a few learned about its nature and were close enough to feel its effect. Most city dwellers never had any idea about theirs and even among the Kutenai were a few who choose not to regard theirs. In some cases, the nature of the Spirit Animal was easy to guess. His was the wolf, hurt by their long separation but still indomitable. Michiko's was a Tiger and Paul's a bear, the defender and healer of the tribe. Jenny had been chosen by the Racoon – playful, nimble and deft, never standing still and always ready for a prank, but devoted to those she regarded as family. He wondered…

"His Spirit Animal is the wolf as well," Paul answered the unspoken question. Mooney howled in happiness.

"So, he will learn both ways of magic," Remus concluded.

"Yes," Paul agreed, "at least until he finishes Junior School."

Remus scowled at this news. The graduation after Junior School was similar to taking his OWLs. As far as he knew, it was even accepted as such among the European schools. By continuing his mundane classes, he would need six years, however, allowing him to sit his junior examinations in mundane classes the summer before turning fourteen and his magical ones one year later. Many teenagers stopped their education after that or decided to continue only one part of it, mundane or magical.

"And after that?"

"Harry isn't as talented in the Ways of the Adept as Jenny, but still quite gifted. The same can be said about the Ways of the Spirits," Paul explained slowly, gazing onto the horizon. "Still, he will stay limited in his use of magic if he only follows the Way of the Adept and the Way of the Shaman."

"You want to tell me that he won't be able to master those ways? That his magic is… weaker?" Remus couldn't believe this, not Harry, not the son of Lily and James.

"Calm down," only when Paul put a hand on his shoulder, did Remus realize his agitation. "Yes, in a way his magic is weaker than ours, weaker than my Shamanic Magic and weaker than Michiko's Adept Powers. But he is stronger at the same time as well."

"I don't understand."

"Do you know about Martin's gift?" Paul asked.

Remus narrowed his eyes and thought about the French-Canadian sitting on the tribe's council. Apart from Remus, Martin Legrange was the only wand-user living among the Kutenai. It was obvious that he hadn't visited a European school and his spells were different from Remus', but still he was able to use a traditional wand. He only chose not to do so very often, as he was a Shaman as well. Remus had no idea how Martin had been able to learn both branches of magic, but the result was obvious. Not only was Martin able to use both kinds of spells, he actually accomplished incredible feats of magic by joining both sides. Remus nodded slowly.

"Harry's is similar. He will be able to learn wand magic. Actually, we believe he will have to learn wand magic in a couple of years to tap his full potential. He'll need longer to finish his education, naturally, but the result will be worth it."

Actually, Remus felt relieved. He would be able to teach Harry the magic of his parents. With Harry being a wizard, he had a longer lifespan than a mundane, so it wouldn't matter if he needed until his twenties to finish school.

"So, I can teach him my magic as well?"

"Yes," Paul agreed, "but after his fifteenth birthday. We don't want to spoil him."

 _Taint him like me_ , Remus silently grumbled.

"Martin offered to teach him as well after he got the basics from you."

"Teaching him how to combine both branches?" Remus wondered.

"Yes." Paul simply replied, concluding the conversation for now.

They continued sitting together, deep in thoughts while the sun set – the Wolf and the Bear. Harry's future promised to be interesting to watch.

.

 _ **Kutenai Village – summer of 1991 (Harry Evans)**_

.

Remus watched the children as Michiko prepared them for their next exam. With their school taking a break, the summer had always been the season Michiko used to intensify their physical lessons. In a couple of days, Remus had no doubt, eleven-year-old Harry would get his 2nd Kyu in Kendo and Karate, the second highest student grade. He smiled thoughtful, remembering Harry's pout when fourteen-year-old Jenny had been allowed to take her 1st Dan in Kendo. She had to wait another two years before being allowed doing the same in Karate, as only teenagers of at least sixteen years of age were admitted to the exams. It certainly didn't stop her mother from teaching her at a far higher level. Michiko herself was already on her way to get the rank of 7th Dan or Renshi – roughly translated meaning _sophisticated person_. So, it was a little frightening to listen to her when she talked about Jenny's natural talent surpassing her own.

"They're looking good, don't you think?" Remus whisper-asked Floe, who was resting at his back, serving as his fluffy cushion and watching the show of whirling wooden swords with half-closed eyes. Since Jenny found him on a school trip, Floe had been a part of their cosy little family. The small pup had been far too adorable not to touch her caring heart. His mother had been killed by poachers, as she tried to protect the local animal population from them. The small cub would have starved to death without Jenny taking him in. Floe turned out to be a Highland shepherd dog, a magical dog breed similar to Kneazles in relation to cats. They were far stronger and quicker than any normal dogs. Floe's mother hadn't gone down without a fight and in the end been successful in her intention, because the rest of the band had left the forest after killing her, leaving two of their members in the same ground as the proud dog warrioress.

Floe had grown immensely since then. She was now nearly fully grown with a shoulder height of nearly four feet and massing around 150 pounds. If Floe wanted, it could certainly hunt the biggest stags, and even the local black bears knew to respect it, especially when it was around Jenny and Harry. The dog was immensely protective of them and vice versa. Remus remembered quite well the day he had tried to spank Harry after an especially stupid prank only get himself tackled by Floe. It was a rare sight these days to have them separated. Even the teachers at the Vancouver school had stopped trying to keep it out of the class rooms. The last opposition had relented after Floe stopped one of Jenny's school mates from getting abducted a year ago. The abductor had lost a hand and Floe got a new friend.

"Alright," Michiko stopped the training a bit later. "Enough for today. Don't forget the stretching," she sniffed at them. "And you could use a shower, the both of you." Remus felt Harry's urge to pout as he wanted to continue the lesson, but the boy knew better than to show his impatience. Michiko had a mean hand and an even sharper tongue when faced with childish behaviour during training. The children bowed to their teacher and vanished towards the house, Michiko watching them, a proud smile on their face.

"Are they ready for their examinations?" Remus asked.

"Without a doubt," Michiko responded, her gaze now on the man she wanted to become more than a platonic friend. After nearly eight years he was still unrelenting.

Guessing her thoughts, Remus tried to change the topic. "He got no letter from Hogwarts."

Michiko narrowed her eyes. "You sound disappointed."

Remus shrugged. "A bit – but also relieved." Harry not getting his Hogwarts letter meant the veiling spell was still working. Dumbledore was still unable to find him and Lily's son was safe. Despite his wish of Harry having a chance to experience that Scottish Castle like he and his parents had, it was better this way. Remus looked up, noticing Michiko silently watching him. There was a small smile around her soft lips. She understood his train of thoughts.

No, Harry would never go to Hogwarts. He would stay with the Kutenai. And it would be for the best.

Remus only hoped Lily was content as well – wherever she was watching over them.

.

 _ **A/N**_

 _When Hogwarts starts for the rest of his year, Harry Evans will have had two years of education in the Way of the Adept and Shamanic Magic. He will have started Junior High and already reached 2_ _nd_ _Kyu in Karate and Kendo (blue-brown belt in Karate; Kendo has no belts)._

 _Jenny will be fourteen at the same time, will just have finished mundane junior high with five years of magical education, 1_ _st_ _Kyu in Karate and 1_ _st_ _Dan in Kendo under her belt._


	4. Chapter 4 Philospher Stone (91-92)

_**A/N**_

 _ **School system**_ _: in this story the Canadian magic school system is a little different from the muggle Canadian one or the one used in Hogwarts. They start their magical education at 9 years of age but also continue working on their non-magical topics. After 5 years (age 13-14) they have their non-magical junior exams, one year later (age 14-15) they get their magical exam, comparable to the British OWLs. After this they may continue their education by entering senior high. Most students concentrate on either magical or non-magical lessons in those years, but students are allowed to take both if they wish. Exams are sat after 3 years (age 18), a prerequisite to university levels._

 _Beta: my beta-reader_ _ **Butterfly83**_ _is back at work, so hopefully my gravest errors and mishaps got eradicated._

 _Chapters 4-8 will mostly be about Hogwarts, the pretend Harry and his (lack of) heroics and the changes it causes to the original story. The story will turn to the real Harry after that._

 **.**

 **The Philosopher's Stone**

 _ **September 1991 to July 1992**_

.

 _ **Vancouver/Canada – First Nations High School (Harry Evans)**_

.

"Hi Jenny, Harry. Hello Floe."

The pony-sized dog got the same greeting hug as Jenny and Harry. It obviously enjoyed the attention of the blond girl with the bubbling personality. Marian, a fourteen-year-old teen with an English-Canadian father and a Kutenai mother, was Jenny's year mate and hadn't forgotten Floe's help two years ago. She wasn't as talented as Jenny but made up for it with sheer determination and diligence – and Harry's help. The younger boy had proven quite a talent as a teacher, his patience and soft voice helping him a great deal. Despite Harry's young age, Marian preferred his help to Jenny's as the girl got annoyed very fast and had problems to explain how she did things. The Way of the Adept came way too easy to her to be able to explain it to others.

Today the trio would start a new term at the First Nations High School, with Harry entering his third year of magical education and the girls preparing for their magical Junior High Exams. Alike the non-magical schools of Canada, they had a smaller number of mundane subjects than European students. They still had quite the work load because of the combination of magical and mundane lessons. English and Math were basic subjects, non-negotiable, as well as Magical Theory and Combined Sciences, a mix of Chemistry, Physics and Potions. The girls had to take two additional non-magical classes last year to get their non-magical exams, an important matter as most Canadian magicals worked in non-magical professions. Without them they wouldn't be allowed to go to Senior High or University. Jenny had chosen Dancing and Music back then – no surprise there with already a number of Dancing Academies watching her progress – while Marian followed her father's footsteps with lessons in Economy and Statistics, two subjects that bored Jenny to tears.

They naturally had to keep their other magical subjects, but their magical junior exams would only happen a year after their non-magical ones, so they could let things slide a bit – at least Marian could; for Jenny it was a different matter with her very strict teacher of a mother. Both girls were a bit envious of Harry right now. The eleven-year-old boy would be allowed to stay quite relaxed and to enjoy school most of the time. Life was unfair, really. Speaking of Harry…

Jenny growled a little and grabbed the book from his hands. "Aztecan Runes?" She read the title.

"School hasn't even started," Marian scolded him with a smile on her lips, tousling his hairs. Harry pouted a little. His hair was unruly enough as it was.

"You don't even have Aztecan Runes this year," Jenny added. There had been some talk over the summer with Michiko and Remus about the subjects Harry wanted to choose. While Practical Magic was a given – a mix of basic charms, transfiguration and household magic that even encompassed a number of simple healing spells – and most students continued their lessons in animal care, they were allowed to attend other subjects as well. Harry had been a little overeager, willing to make both Michiko and his birth mother proud, but luckily Remus had put his foot down and only allowed two extra classes. It had been a close call with a couple of other subjects like woodcraft, something Harry loved doing, but in the end Awareness and Summoning won the race.

"Just a little light reading; nicked it from Remus," he responded with a toothy grin.

Jenny rolled her eyes. "You can't learn everything."

"I can try," Harry shrugged. Looking away he continued. "Mum was the best student of her year."

Jenny could actually feel the tears in his eyes. Remus really did his best to teach Harry about his parents, but sometimes it was a bit too much in her opinion. "I'm certain she is already proud of you, Harry," she said softly, giving him a one-arm-hug. "She wouldn't like to see you running yourself into the ground."

"Remus said the same," Harry groaned.

"Remus has his moments," Jenny grinned, "despite him being a man and a very old one at that".

"Enough of this," Marian scolded her friends. "I don't want to miss the welcome back speech."

Jenny and Harry rolled her eyes, but followed their eager friend. Sometimes the blond girl was really weird.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Halloween (Harry Potter)**_

.

"You're mean." Not for the first time Harry Potter watched a girl scream those words at Ron, before running away with tears in her eyes. The black-haired boy scowled darkly at his friend.

"What?" Ron glared back. "I was right. Nobody likes her. She's a teacher's pet and a know-it-all."

"She wanted to help you," it was a rare moment to see Harry Potter actually criticising Ron, but with Halloween around the corner – the yearly remember of the night his parents got murdered – he was more moody than usual.

Ron shrugged his words off. "I don't need her help. And have you seen her? She even had to help that snake." He meant Goyle. Hermione had helped him as well, irrespective of Malfoy badmouthing her. Harry wanted to say something more, but he didn't dare. Ron was nearly as bad as Harry with his charms, but he never admitted that it was due to laziness rather than lack of skill. He was always lounging about, only caring about chess, exploding snap, and Quidditch. More than once, Ron had dragged Harry away from his homework, only to squander the afternoon with nonsense. In the beginning, Hermione had tried to get them back to work. It had stopped after some mean words from the redhead – and Harry not standing up for her. He never did. Ron was his brother.

"I'll have to speak with Fred and George about the traitor," Ron sneered, a vicious glint in his eyes. "A real Gryffindor shouldn't help a snake. She has to learn her place." Harry Potter was too young to understand how much it had changed Ron to have a younger brother looking up to him. Ron had changed over the years and not for the better.

"Please don't," Harry said, too softly. Ron just ignored him. Hermione had been the target of more than one prank of the twins already and Harry felt pity for her. Yes, she helped everybody, even Slytherins. He didn't like it. Slytherins were evil and Goyle, like his twin Crabbe, would turn into a Death Eater in a couple of years. He had no doubt about it. Like father like son, Ron and Molly explained it to him. However, the bushy-haired girl had only tried to be helpful. It was in her nature. She didn't deserve to get pranked for this. She led a lonely life already, not really being a part of the Gryffindor family. As far as he knew, only Parvati spoke with her from time to time. Lavender, close to Ron, barely had a nice word for Hermione, and the other boys followed Ron's lead in mocking her.

 _I really should speak with the twins_ , Harry mused, already knowing that he wouldn't do it. He never did. And he hated himself for his cowardice.

.

 _She's not here._

Greg Goyle ate in silence, ignoring Draco's drivel about "my father this and my father that", his eyes searching for the Gryffindor girl. He had been happy she helped him. Vince had watched them without uttering a word, only lifting a single eyebrow as if asking "do you think this is a clever thing to do?" Naturally it wasn't, not with Draco watching. However, he had been happy nonetheless. Unlike Draco, Greg hadn't gotten lessons in Charms in advance. He was really bad at that stuff, needed longer to understand and more practice than the other kids. Draco called him a dumbass and his own father…

Greg shuddered, thinking about what his father would do if he flunked Charms. Luckily, the girl had been willing to help, despite him being Draco's henchman. She was a little impatient, she rolled her eyes and grimaced, but she didn't stop until he got it. Greg even earned Slytherin a point from Professor Flitwick for doing it right. It had been his first point ever outside of Herbology, the only subject he was really good in. Too bad he only got Care for magical Creatures in third year.

And now she wasn't here. The red-headed Weasel had made her run away in tears. And Greg had been too much of a coward to do anything about it. "Nobody can stand you," Weasel had said. It wasn't right. Greg would like to have her as his friend – if only Draco would allow it. Not that Greg expected it to ever happen. Draco called her a Mudblood. He wouldn't hesitate to call Greg a Blood-Traitor if he ever found out about his real thoughts. He wouldn't hesitate to write Greg's father and the consequences would be hurtful.

"A Troll, a troll in the dungeons," Quirrell the useless DADA teacher announced loudly before fainting.

Greg got more and more restless as the students gathered to leave the hall and to return to their dorms. _I should tell the teachers_ , he thought.

"Goyle?" Draco whined. "Where do you think you're going?"

Greg made a distracted gesture towards the teachers, unsure what to tell his boss.

"There is no time for your nonsense," Draco was obviously annoyed. "Come."

For a moment Greg gazed longingly towards the teachers' table. "Come, dumbass," Draco repeated more forceful. And Greg obeyed.

He would regret it for years to come.

.

"She'll live, more I can't say tonight. We'll see…" Poppy sounded exhausted and more than a tad miffed about the situation.

Minerva sympathized. Nobody had noticed the missing girl when everybody left the Great Hall. No teacher, no prefect and none of her housemates had cared enough about the girl. Hermione Granger had been lucky to survive. Only when the students entered the Gryffindor dorms had Percy Weasley, the fifth year prefect, noticed her absence. Hearing about her plight – luckily Parvati had known about the Granger girl sobbing her heart out in that washroom – he had raised the alarm.

Minerva and Filius had found her just in time – to save her life but not before getting seriously injured. It looked ugly. One leg was shattered, perhaps even beyond magical healing. A second strike had grazed her face and broken her shoulder. Minerva had no doubt the girl would be scarred and perhaps crippled for the rest of her life. _Poor girl!_

"We have to hope for the best."

.

 _ **St. Mungo's – two weeks later**_

.

"Detention?" Hermione was more flabbergasted than angry. It was simply too weird to believe it. "He only got detention?" Her words sounded a little blurry, with that bandage still hiding half of her face. She wasn't allowed to leave her room without her wheelchair and her shoulder hurt her more often than not. Most of her injuries would heal in time, the Healers assured her. However, there would still be permanent consequences.

"I'll limp for the rest of my life," she seethed, causing Professor McGonagall to flinch. "And my face will never fully heal," her eyes prickled with tears. She had never been vain about her looks, but she was still a girl. Hermione needed her mum right now, but Muggles weren't allowed to enter St. Mungo's. The entrance was hidden from their eyes and apparently it was too much of an effort to find a solution. The Grangers had only seen her once since Halloween. They had been beyond furious.

"Without Mr. Weasley's timely intervention…" Professor McGonagall started weakly. She felt bad about it, but her hands were tied. Headmaster Dumbledore had been clear: he wouldn't allow anything more than a detention and a couple of points taken for Ron Weasley's part in that tragedy.

"This is not about PERCY Weasley," Hermione fumed. She knew about Percy's part in her rescue and was thankful of it. He had actually written her, one of only three students doing so, the others being Parvati and – surprise, surprise – Gregory Goyle. Percy had even apologized for not earlier noticing her absence.

"Ron and Harry are really sorry about this," Minerva tried to placate her ire. Harry Potter had actually looked contrite, while Ron had appeared mostly annoyed.

"Then why haven't they visited me? They haven't even written a letter." Hermione wondered loudly. Minerva had no answer. Hermione sighed with a deep shudder. "My parents want me to leave Hogwarts." Her voice was barely a whisper. Minerva paled. What a loss it would be.

"And your education?" Minerva asked. "You'll need…"

"At least one OWL, I know." Hermione sneered, pointing towards an official looking scroll resting on her small sideboard. "I can read." Minerva hoped the Grangers would change their mind after calming down a bit. Home-schooling and taking a single OWL would prevent the visit of an Obliviator to the Granger household, making them forget everything they knew about magic. It would equally stop the Ministry from binding Hermione Granger's magical core to avoid dangerous accidental magic when entering puberty. It would still be quite a loss in Minerva's mind. The girl had potential.

"I won't say farewell, Professor," Hermione Granger told her with ice in her voice, "because it would be meaningless." No, she didn't like her teacher anymore. This was not the brave behaviour she expected from the Head of House Gryffindor.

.

 _ **Kutenai Village/Canada (Harry Evans)**_

.

"Wooohooo!"

"It's a little creepy to watch them behaving like this," Michiko whispered. Remus nodded, smiling softly, and continued watching Harry interact with Floe. The small boy and the not so small dog were frolicking around, playing with a rubber ball, a present from Remus, well-loved and slightly marred.

"Wuff, wuff."

"It's still better than listening to him hissing like a snake," Michiko shuddered. She remembered all too well an eight-year-old Harry bringing back a snake he found in the forest. Harry wanted to keep it as his pet. After calming down – Michiko had actually first screamed like a little girl – she had convinced Harry that this wasn't such a wonderful idea. While she didn't share the British prejudice towards Parseltongue – she was sophisticated enough to know that other countries didn't share that opinion and a few even held "Snakespeakers" in high regard – Michiko still didn't want a snake in her house. There were certainly better pets for keeping around.

In the beginning, Remus had been somewhat concerned about the origin of Harry' gift. He feared it had something to do with Voldemort and his attack. Luckily, Paul had been able to calm his mind. "It's a gift, Remus", Paul explained. "Part of Harry's talent with Awareness spells is his ability to learn animal languages. It's a latent gift and he has to work on it to awaken his ability. In a way you're right: it is reasonable to assume that Voldemort's attack was the reason he is able to speak with snakes. However, with the right preparations, he'll learn other languages as well."

He had been right about it, as Harry's grasp of dog speech had proven. It actually was Wolfspeech, taught to him by Remus. Harry had spent a couple of nights with a turned Remus, safe because of Wolfsbane, a magically reinforced wooden cage and the impressive Weretiger resting to his feet. Learning the basics from his Dad, he had used Floe for training as often as possible since then. Jenny was a bit miffed because she couldn't learn to speak "Wolfie" as well, but accepted it in the end. With Floe looking so happy, she couldn't stay upset for long. Not that she needed such a skill to interact with Floe. Girl and dog more often than not acted like they were able to read the other's mind.

Remus assumed Harry got the ability from his Black side. Harry's grandmother had been a Black and the family had a predisposition for unusual talents, as Andi's daughter had proven as a Metamorphmagus. Snakespeech and Wolfspeech – Remus was eager to see which other languages Harry would learn over the years. They wouldn't force it, but he was certain there were other languages down the road called Harry's life.

.

 _ **St. Mungo's – early December**_

.

"Hello, I'm Hermione." Hermione was sitting in her wheelchair, enjoying a cup of hot cacao while watching the street below. It was early December and many parents used the days before their children returned from Hogwarts to buy some last presents.

The woman she addressed didn't react at first. Hermione had seen her for a couple of times already. Apparently she wasn't a patient like Hermione, but visited someone nearly every day. She was her mother's age, quite beautiful, but always sad. "Hello, I'm Alice." The voice was soft, the words only a whisper.

"Are you visiting someone?" Hermione asked. Her feeling told her, this woman needed someone right now.

"My husband… Frank." The woman turned her head towards Hermione and tried to show a weak smile. It failed flat, with tears running down her face and her shoulders trembling. Hermione felt bad for a moment. Perhaps she should leave the woman alone. However, she remembered how often she had missed her Mum since Halloween. Perhaps this woman needed someone as well.

"Did he have an… an accident as well," she gestured towards her leg. It was getting better, but still not strong enough to walk around. In January, her healer had told her, she would start with Physio training.

"He… he was cursed."

Hermione suppressed a gasp. "But he's getting better, isn't he?"

"No, he never will." Alice furled into a ball on her seat, nearly slumping to the ground. Her whole body was shaking now. Hermione hesitated only for a moment, before she moved the wheelchair nearer to the woman and put an arm around her. Perhaps her own fate wasn't so bad after all.

.

 _ **Hogwarts (around Christmas)**_

.

 _It's Peter Pettigrew_ , he was sure of it. While he hadn't seen the _Rat_ for a couple of years, he did remember his form. Reading about how Sirius Black had supposedly killed the traitor, with only a single finger left behind, he already had his doubts. He was one of only a handful people who knew Pettigrew's dirty little secret. The man had always been a coward. Likewise he had always been gifted with a knack for survival. It was hard to believe a Gryffindorish blood-traitor like Black would succeed in killing him.

 _Clever, little man, very clever_ , he thought with a cruel smile. Pettigrew had obviously not only been able to survive the fight, but also to feign his death and to blame Black for the whole matter. The icing on the cake was certainly how he had been able to hunker down with the Weasleys of all people.

 _I have to speak with him_ , he mused, _right after Christmas. He could be helpful. Yes, little man, enjoy your Christmas for now. We'll meet soon enough_.

.

 _ **Granger Home – Christmas Eve**_

.

"Hello Mrs Granger, I'm Alice Longbottom."

"Alice," she was greeted by Hermione's screech. Her mother rolled her eyes and gestured for the witch to enter. Hermione's parents had been somewhat sceptic about the visit, but seeing the happy smile on her face and watching her exchange a hearty hug with the visitor convinced them.

"Happy Christmas, Mrs Longbottom, but please call me Emma."

"Only if you call me Alice. And thank you for having me." She followed Emma to the sitting room and greeted Dan Granger as well. He was quite protective of his daughter, now even more than before, but his gut told him to trust this woman.

"Hermione told us how you met in the Hospital."

"Yes, I've been a patient there myself for a couple of years," Alice told them, surprising even Hermione. Hermione had accompanied her friend a few times and met Frank Longbottom – not that the man had reacted to their visits in any way. However, Alice had never spoken about the attack itself or her part in it. "I'm better now, but Frank…" Alice sat down with a shuddering sigh. Emma offered her a cup of tea and Alice accepted with a weak smile.

"I don't want to intrude but…" Emma stopped herself.

"Hermione, did you ever tell your parents about Harry Potter?" Alice wondered loudly instead of answering directly.

Hermione nodded and Dan responded. "She told us about how he survived that curse, how the wizards see him as some kind of hero."

"Yes, they do. Nobody knows for sure what happened back then, but Headmaster Dumbledore told some crazy story about toddler Harry surviving the killing curse, freeing us from that madman."

"You don't believe it, I suppose."

"No, I don't," Alice admitted. "I knew Lily, I was a close friend of hers. She prepared something, some kind of blood ward to protect them."

Hermione gasped. "Aren't they forbidden?"

"Right now, yes," Alice responded. "Back then, not so much. Albus Dumbledore convinced the Wizengamot that blood wards are evil. Stupid wanker." Hermione's eyes widened. She had never heard the soft-spoken woman curse. Alice addressed Emma: "if you knew that someone wanted to kill Hermione, wouldn't you do anything to protect her?" Emma agreed wholeheartedly. "Lily put a ward on Harry, linked it," she hesitated and sobbed. "She linked it with her life. I'm certain she sacrificed herself to protect him. It was her magic that allowed Harry to survive the curse. I can't see anything bad in this." The Grangers couldn't either.

"And you were attacked as well?"

Alice nodded. "A couple of days later, Bellatrix LeStrange and three others attacked our house. We felt safe with Voldemort vanquished, but we were wrong. They broke through the wards. We fought them, but they were too strong. Bellatrix tortured us. She wanted to know the truth about her mad master. As if we knew anything, after spending weeks isolated in that house. They… they killed my Neville." Alice sobbed heart-rendingly.

The Grangers needed quite some time to calm her down. They promised there and then to help her to get back on her feet. No mother deserved this.

.

 _ **Kutenai Village (Harry Evans)**_

.

"Put your presents down in front of you."

Without a word, the children followed Paul's orders. Six teenagers, all in Harry's year, were waiting with him to start the real thing. He flicked away a couple of tiny stones, smoothed the sand with his hand and put the things he had gathered with Jenny's help down. She had been sitting in the same place three years ago. Jenny had no real talent for the summoning of spirits. She had not even been in the summoning class in her time. However, with her strong connection to the Racoon Spirit, Paul had allowed her to participate nonetheless. And the Racoon had appeared back, to nobody's surprise.

Harry hoped "The Wolf" would follow his call as well. Four of his classmates had already been successful in summoning their spirits; the other two would follow soon enough. Today, however, would be about him. He eyed his presents: The fur of a rabbit – caught by him last fall; a medium-sized amber – reminding him of Remus' eyes when his wolf was near the surface; the claw from a wolf – Jenny and Harry had freed him from a trap two years ago.

Paul kindled the small flame, burning some herbs he had gathered since summer. Harry didn't like the smoke. It gave him a headache and made his mind foggy. It was necessary, however, as he knew; at least for someone like him, new in this whole summoning business. Paul didn't need it anymore and even Jenny was able to communicate with Racoon without missing a beat. He breathed deeply, feeling the smoke fill his lungs. It only needed a few minutes before he noticed the effect. His sight was altered. Not only Paul and the other students were present anymore, but their spirit animals as well. The closer the connection, the stronger was the animal, stronger and more solid. Jason's lynx was nearly live-like. Kerry's Raven on the other hand was as elusive as ever, barely noticeable as it watched them from the girl's shoulder. And then there was Paul's bear. His presence filled the tent. Harry even noticed the fur's scent and heard his breath. Only Jenny's Racoon came even near this kind of presence.

"Wooohooo!" The other students flinched as Harry started to call The Wolf. Paul had agreed that it would be a sign of Harry's reverence to use Wolfspeech for this part of the ritual.

Harry's head jerked around. There was something…

Someone gasped. Harry's eyes widened. None of the other spirits had followed their call this fast. With Kerry they had nearly lost hope before the raven had appeared at the very end of the summoning ritual. This time, it had only been seconds. It had been like he had been waiting already for this very moment. The timber wolf was very solid, like Jenny's racoon. Harry felt the waves of jealousy from some of the other students and the pride from Paul, but for now he had only eyes for his Spirit.

He bowed his head slightly, his own never leaving the wolf's eyes. _Show respect but no fear_. "I greet thee, Okami." Harry used the Japanese word for wolf to honour his new-found mother. He waited with bated breath the wolf's reaction. Would he accept the name? For a moment the wolf stared him in the eye, like searching for something. Harry felt a bit like a tiny cub. It had been similar a decade ago as he watched Remus transform for the first time. The Wolf Spirit was no tame house dog. He was wildness and fierceness personified. He could effortlessly rip Harry's throat out. He could…

A long tongue licked Harry's face. He didn't dare to move. He could feel how Jason scrunched his nose. He wasn't a dog – or wolf – person. Harry waited for The Wolf to finish his job. Only then did he move, very slowly, careful to give the Spirit a chance to back away should he want to. The Wolf watched him as did all others. Inch by inch Harry leant forward, until he nearly was chest to chest with the Spirit. Slowly he lifted his arms, hesitated, and waited for any sign of agreement or rejection. The Wolf bopped his head a tiny bit. Harry put his arms around him, pressing against him gently. The scent of the wolf's fur filled his nostrils. He was warm like a real wolf and his chest moved as if breathing. They stayed this way for a while, before Harry let go.

Sitting back, he waited for the spirit to disappear. The others had done so too, not all of them allowing as much contact as The Wolf had. Instead The Wolf lifted its paw and put it on Harry's chest. Like all the students, he only wore shorts and some kind of vest for the summoning. No shoes allowed. The only jewellery was his mother's amulet and an armlet he got from Jenny last year. The Wolf pushed the vest aside and put his paw on Harry's skin. For a moment nothing changed, and then suddenly his skin started to burn. Harry hissed but didn't back away. After a few seconds the burning ebbed away. He didn't dare to move, didn't dare to look until The Wolf stepped back and vanished without another glance.

"I think there is no doubt anymore that The Wolf accepted you," Paul deadpanned.

Harry happened to agree. The imprint of the wolf paw would stay with him for the rest of his life.

.

 _ **A wee bit later**_

.

"So, a wolf?" Jenny asked with a toothy grin.

Harry rolled his eyes, a small smile betraying his real mood. Sitting down, he nodded with an exasperated sigh. "It seems so."

"I heard it was a really big wolf… and solid too." Kerry had been miffed about it, whining to everybody willing to listen and some that weren't.

"Some kind of timber wolf," Harry explained, knowing that Jenny knew the differences between at least twenty kinds of wolves. She wasn't like those city teenagers at their school that wouldn't know the difference between a wolf and a husky. "About this tall at the shoulder," he showed with his hand.

"Wolves are loyal and fierce," Jenny remembered from her lessons.

When talking about Spirit Animals, Paul had explained the traits that usually were connected with them. _Wolves_ , he told them, _are pack animals. They're loyal to the other pack members, to their family and especially to their mate. Being fierce hunter, they never injure or kill for fun or without good reason. But never provoke them; never start a fight with them if you don't intend it to turn very vicious very soon, and never ever threaten their mate or their pups_.

"And he accepted you," Jenny said, her pride obvious.

"Yes, he did," Harry felt the same pride. Such a distinct reaction was rare among first meetings with a Spirit Animal, Paul had told him. The Wolf accepted him, and there had never been a doubt that Harry would do the same.

" _You know, Harry, you don't have to accept your Spirit. Many city dwellers never do. It's like an offer of friendship. The Spirit bares his soul to you, it tells you: I'm here. I want to be your friend, your brother. You can reject the offer, but it would be a deep insult. I've seen such things happen in the past. Someone hoping for a better Spirit, such as a young hunter denying that a little bird or a doe could be his Spirit Animal. You can't force the kind of Spirit that answers your call. You can wish for something, but sometimes it isn't granted to you. In my eyes it is stupid to reject your Spirit. It is like rejecting a part of your soul. However, everybody has to decide for themselves."_

Yes, Harry accepted The Wolf as well. He still didn't really understand what those Spirit were: some kind of ghost of deceased animals? Perhaps they were the epitome of their kind, the representation of the perfect animal. Or they were something completely different. No, he didn't know. He would leave those questions to people like Paul.

He only knew that he was a Wolf now. This year couldn't get any better.

.

 _ **Granger Home – around Easter**_

.

"Alice accepted the offer. She'll be Madam Sprout's assistant next year." Hermione beamed at her parents.

They reacted with slightly strained smiles on their own. The discussion had been long and arduous about Hermione's wish to return to Hogwarts. In the beginning, she hadn't been sure. There had been weeks of physio, endless hours of training, sweat and pain until she was able to walk again on her own. There was still a visible limp. It would get better over time, her therapist told her, but it would never go completely away. And then there was her shoulder. It was slightly lower than the over, giving her an unequal look. Not to speak of her face. In a couple of months, there was another plastic surgery planned. Some scars would stay, however. She knew that without magical healing it would be far worse. But it still hurt.

In the end it had been Alice and her visits that had convinced first Hermione and then her parents. "You belong there," she said. "You'll regret it for the rest of your life. You can't allow them to win." _Them_ – she meant Ronald Weasley and his cronies. Because of the Weasel she had been there. Without him she wouldn't have been injured. And he didn't even get the deserved punishment. Detention, he got detention. That wasn't justice. Perhaps it was because he was a Pureblood and she only Muggleborn. Malfoy had called her Mudblood often enough. Alice doubted it. She believed in Professor McGonagall, an opinion Hermione didn't share, not anymore. However, she agreed with her about returning to Hogwarts and continuing her education, in the end. Hermione was no quitter, not even in the face of a twelve feet troll.

Percy, Parvati and Greg had been happy about her decision, happier than her own parents. She understood them, Hermione admitted. They were protective of her, feared for her life. Another incident like that… Hermione shuddered at the thought. The three teenagers had written to her quite often. Greg's letters were short and full of errors. She enjoyed them nonetheless. Parvati sent her school notes and even convinced her sister to do the same when Hermione complained. Her letters now contained a tad too much about fashion, makeup and cute boys, but with her days mostly spent on her own, she didn't complain too much. Percy had been the most helpful in the end. He told her about the possibility of getting resorted. Apparently, getting injured in such a way was reason enough. While the magical society had no notion of such a thing as PTSD, they at least understood that such an event could change a girl's personality deeply – deep enough to switch houses.

Professor McGonagall hadn't been happy about her wish, not that Hermione cared anymore. But she had agreed. Hermione would return in September. She would repeat first class and get her resorting. She hoped for Ravenclaw. The hat had proposed it the first time. Silly girl that she was, she declined back then. _We all have to grow up_.

"That's nice," her mother forced a smile. "You'll have a friend there already."

 _Not a real friend_ , Hermione mused _, not a friend my age_. She knew that a teacher – or assistant teacher in Alice' case – couldn't be all too close to a student. Still, it would be nice. Hopefully Parvati wouldn't take it too bad with her resorting. Greg, she assumed, wouldn't dare to show his friendship to a Muggleborn openly. And Percy, while nice enough, would be a sixth year student and working on his chance at getting head boy. It was his dream, had been for years. It was a dream Hermione had shared when she started Hogwarts and met the head girl for the first time. Now, she wasn't so sure. Head girl meant being close to the Professors and the Headmaster, nothing she really wanted.

 _We'll see_ , she thought a little sadly. _First I have to return_. She put the letter down.

 _Best wishes, Alice. You did the right thing. I really hope it._

.

 _ **Hogwarts – June 1992 (Harry Potter)**_

.

"This is a stupid idea," Parvati whined.

"I happen to agree," Harry said with a low voice. Parvati wasn't surprised to hear it. Harry had a good head on his shoulders. Without urging, he wouldn't run into dangers without serious need. However, he seriously lacked in the self-confidence department and listened to Ron all too often. It was the same today. The redhead had chosen this day to play the hero, and a hero needed an audience – in this case Harry, Lavender and Parvati.

Parvati watched Lavender open the door. With her friend not really being the studious kind, she wondered a little how and mostly why Lavender had learned the Alohomora spell. Parvati herself knew the spell only thanks to Padma, her sister being the uglier but – she admitted only to herself – the more intelligent twin. Ron gulped and pushed the door open. He already knew from their first excursion what awaited them. There he was the cute little dog with his three heads with three mouths full of sharp, dangerous looking teeth. "This is a stupid idea," she repeated.

To her relief, Harry already had the flute in hand he got from Hagrid last Christmas. The music he played was neither melodious nor mellifluous, but luckily the Cerberus wasn't a very discerning audience. Like expected, he sank to the floor, his three head resting on his broad paws, far enough from the trap door to allow the teenagers to open it.

"It's kind of dark down there," Ron whispered after taking a look.

Parvati rolled her eyes. Pushing him away, she gazed down the shaft hidden under the trap door. It really was very dark down there. She had a creepy feeling, like some monster was waiting for them. Whispering something under her breath, she created a ball of blue flames and allowed it to drop. Lavender smirked. She was the only one among her friends who knew that she had learned the spell from Hermione. Ron wouldn't be impressed, the git. Parvati only endured him because of Lavender. She feared for her friend's safety if she allowed Lavender to follow Ron and his brainless ideas without supervision.

"Devil's snare," Harry recognized the plant. Parvati shuddered from the sight, the plant obviously not liking the light of her spell. While Ron didn't appreciate Harry's fable for all plant-like things, she was happy to have him around. "You have to relax, else it will strangle you. Oh, and light and fire sure helps," he added with a lopsided grin. Before her light vanished, the boy jumped, roared down the shaft and landed relatively gently, his fall dampened by the plant. Parvati followed him without hesitation, recasting the blue flame spell as soon as she hit the ground.

"First Hagrid, now Sprout," Lavender stated. "I wonder who'll be next."

.

"There is only enough for one to go on," Parvati commented the result of their examination. She had been able to get the key from Professor Flitwick's test, being easily a better flier than Lavender and even Ron, not to speak of Harry. The chess game had naturally been Ron's heroic moment. He had been able to beat Professor McGonagall's test, but not without sacrificing himself. Luckily the troll had already been sleeping and now they faced the last test, apparently: a potion's riddle.

 _Hermione would have solved this riddle easily through sheer logic_ , Parvati decided with a small pout. _My sister as well_ ; she wasn't happy about that realization. Luckily, they had been able to compensate for logic with sheer determination and combining their knowledge. Lavender had been able to recognize the alcohol – hopefully her mother never learned about that part – and Harry detected two of the poisons because of his herb lore. With a little combination, they had been able to determine the rest.

"I'll continue," Harry sounded neither self-secure nor enthusiastic. Parvati had no doubts that his decision would be very different without Ron lying around next room.

"We'll take care of Ron," Lavender agreed. "Good luck!" Parvati followed her after a last glance. She saw the raw fear in Harry's brown eyes – fear about what awaited him, but even more of being seen as a coward. In a history book she read something about soldiers more fearing the officer behind them than the enemies ahead. It was similar to Harry and Ron, sometimes. _Not a very healthy basis for a friendship_ , she mused.

With the face of a man damned to death, Harry opened the vial.

.

 _ **Same time**_

Albus Dumbledore was a happy man. Everything came together as planned months ago. Harry Potter and his little friends had been able – and quite willing, thanks to a little prodding of Ron– to enter the parkour and bypass all tests. He watched their progress through a system of hidden surveillance spells, transferring their pictures – regretfully without sound – to his office. Officially, he was away to a meeting in London. Minerva had rejected their plea for help thanks to a little compulsion spell. It wouldn't help little Harry to depend on adults. He had to learn to make his own way. It was difficult enough to get him on the path of the hero. Harry was far too soft. Regretfully, the "James Potter" potion had only changed the appearance. It had bestowed neither James' fondness for pranks nor his recklessness. At least, little Weasley was doing his job wonderfully. _I'll have to get him a little extra this summer, perhaps a little box from Honeydukes_.

Albus rubbed his hands, watching in glee as the girls retreated while Harry continued on his way. The mirror was waiting for him – and Professor Quirrell. A very possessed Professor Quirrell, but Harry didn't know so far. He would soon learn about that small fact. It was Albus' chance to get his facts straight about the prophecy. Was Harry the chosen one – the real one, the vanished one – or Neville? Was there actually something real about the prophecy or was it in Voldemort's mind only? Albus had his doubts, but in the end only Voldemort's conviction counted. He would know soon enough.

And then it would be the time to spring the trap.

No, he couldn't lose today. It all came together.

.

 _ **A wee bit later**_

"They're alright, Molly," Albus tried to calm the agitated woman in vain.

"How did this happen? Why were they down there? They had no business…"

"Calm down, Molly," he put his hand on her shoulder in a grandfatherly way. "You know them," he laughed lightly. "Boys are boys and will always be." He sighed. "Perhaps I should have expected this. A closed door, a warning… I fear it was like dangling a bit of candy in front of them. Hindsight is always 20/20."

He didn't intend telling her that everything happened as intended. The trap had been ready, both for Harry and his friends and for Tom. The teenagers had worked well together, overcoming all obstacles and Harry reaching the mirror room on his own. Tom had been waiting for him, eager to lay his hands on the stone. Not that the real stone had even been in danger. The following fight had been an eye-opener – in a negative way. Harry hadn't been able to overcome Tom. There had even been a moment when Harry's hands had touched Tom's bare skin – without any visible effect. In the end, Albus had to intervene, rescuing Harry and springing the trap on Tom.

The mirror's preparation months ago had been arduous but certainly worthwhile. Tom had neither detected the runes waiting for him nor been able to avoid their magic. They had ripped Tom's soul out of Quirrel's body, leaving poor Quirinus to die. It was a sad but necessary sacrifice. Tom's soul was now trapped in the mirror, allowing Albus to study it and to find a way to permanently destroy it, after finding the other pieces. Harry, unconscious most of the time, didn't know about this string of events. Albus had altered his memory. Harry would be the hero again and the knowledge of him killing Tom would help the boy in growing up. He was too soft for Albus' liking. The pictures of Harry's hands around Tom's neck, of the skin contact burning Tom to ashes, would harden him. In the end it was better this way. Someday, Harry would thank him – if he ever learned the truth.

"They are safe now, Molly." _For now_.

.

 _ **Same time**_

With Ron and Harry staying in the Hospital Wing, nobody noticed the rat running up the stairs and entering the 1st years' dorm. Moments later, the mangy looking rat was resting on Ron's pillow as if it had been there all the time. After some months of following his Dark Lord, preparing for his return and dreaming about what to do with the Weasleys as payback for the past years, it was quite a change to be a normal rat again. However, it was safer this way.

Peter Pettigrew survived – again. His master would return some day and Peter would be ready.

.

 _ **A/N**_

 _So mostly the result you know from the books: Voldemort gone, only not destroyed but trapped in the mirror. Next chapter we'll see how the sliver of Voldy's soul from the diary fares._


	5. Chapter 5 Chamber of Secrets (92-93) - 1

_**A/N**_

 _The events of Harry Potter's second year will differ from the original book, mostly because there is nobody around able to speak Parseltongue and "Tom" progresses faster in his plans._

 _I have had to split this part in two chapters. It would have gotten far too long otherwise._

.

 **The Chamber of Secrets (summer 1992 to summer 1993) – Part 1**

.

 _ **Vancouver/British Columbia (Harry Evans) – 1**_ _ **st**_ _ **of August 1992**_

.

Harry's broad smile brightened the whole room. He looked around with wide eyes, as if not really believing it. Having turned twelve just the day before, THIS was the best birthday present ever!

"Happy?" Michiko asked, her voice soft and her smile wide.

Harry nodded. "Yes!" Very carefully he stored his glasses away in a battered looking case. He closed it with a final snap, his hand caressing it like an old friend. His look was a little wistful.

"You won't need it anymore, love" Michiko assured him. The healer, a friend of Paul and member of the Twelve Oaks Lodge, nodded in silent agreement. Healer Marianna, called Marjenka by her friends, was one of the youngest Lodge members and, as far as Michiko knew, the only Russian present. Twelve Oaks was a lodge hosting mostly shamans as members, focused on healing magic and well-educated in the use of mundane medicine. Years ago, a freshly initiated Apprentice Healer Marianna had convinced Remus and Michiko to wait until Harry's twelfth birthday for this alteration, to allow his eyes to settle in and his magical core to grow. And today was the day, at long last.

"The ritual went smoothly," Healer Marianna explained. Her patience and experience with younger patients had been one of the reasons Paul entrusted her with this ritual; that and his strong belief in her innate talent. "He should return once a week for fine adjusting, but after a while his sight should be 20/20, perhaps even better. But Harry," she addressed the boy now. "No Vision Awareness spells for the next six weeks." She offered him an envelope. "This is for your teachers." With school starting in three weeks, they needed to exempt him from practical studies. At least he would be allowed to advance his knowledge in the Summoning class. This year they would turn to the Summoning of little helper spirits, also called Watchers.

"Thank you, Marjenka." Like Jenny he had been allowed to use her nickname, a privilege he favoured immensely. He sighed deeply. The spectacles he wore for nearly a decade went into his pocket. Remus actually had to convince him to go through with this ritual, as wearing the spectacle had brought him a little closer to his late father. Putting them away was a bit like betraying his memory.

" _He would have done the same," Remus countered. "Only, it wasn't possible back then, at least not in Europe. He would have been happy about this. And you can still keep those spectacles, if you want."_

"Let's got home, Harry," Michiko hugged him. "Jenny is waiting."

"Yes," Harry grinned again. "And I can't wait to see Floe's reaction to my new look."

.

 _ **Wiltshire/Great Britain – same time**_

.

While the poor eyesight of Harry Evans' green eyes got corrected, Molly Weasley happily accompanied a brown-eyed Harry Potter to an optician for a new pair of glasses.

The mood in Malfoy Manor wasn't nearly as happy and relaxed however. The events around the Philosopher's stone were a well-protected secret, meaning that Lucius Malfoy had barely needed three days to learn everything about it. Or at least to learn the story as far as it was known by the DMLE and Minister: A professor of Hogwarts had been possessed and tried to steal an artefact from the school grounds, getting killed as he attempted to murder the boy-who-lived in the process. The public had been outraged, but proud of their little hero. The Ministry had been outraged, but happy about the welcome outcome. They didn't look into the story all too much, eager to believe the culprit to be some lowly wannabe Dark Lord attempting what even Voldemort had failed to accomplish.

But Lucius Malfoy knew better. The whole string of events had the thumbprint of his former master all over it. For more than a decade he had been happy to lead his own life, to influence the Minister according to his own wishes instead of being somebody else' slave. Only to have the one and only Dark Lord return after all those years. This had obviously been some powerplay to return to his former glory. The Dark Lord still needed a body of his own. Apparently, he had been able to possess that dunderhead Quirrell for a while. He returned to Hogwarts, looking for a way to keep himself alive, as alive as a mind clinging to a body like a parasite could be. There had been rumours about unicorns getting slain, their blood drained from their bodies. Lucius shuddered. What a fate, to keep oneself going but cursing one's soul at the same time. The powerplay apparently failed, but he had no doubt that this wasn't the end of it.

Lucius' hand caressed the small black book on the table. The Dark Lord once entrusted it to his care. He knew no more about it than he did twenty years ago, only that it was extremely important to the Dark Lord. The idea of this book being at least partially accountable for the Dark Lord's continued existence wasn't far-fetched. More than once he had pondered the idea of destroying it. It could free him from slavery… perhaps.

Only he didn't know if this was the only Horcrux of his master in existence. Because that's exactly what it was in his opinion: a Horcrux, a magical artefact created through a dark ritual around a scripted murder, meant to anchor a soul to this world while causing immense damage to the same soul in the process. It could be the only one. Destroying it could free him. However, if he erred, if there were other ones and the Dark Lord returned, his anger would be … Lucius shuddered.

No, the risk was too great. He rose from his comfy chair, grabbed the book and stored it away with new determination in his eyes. Better safe than sorry. He left the room, never realizing that he had been watched by his son the whole time. Draco hadn't been happy either. The mood had been tense at the Manor. His father had been short with him, unwilling to listen to his ramblings about Potter and Weasley. He treated him like a small child, not like a man. Not like his mother did. But he would show him. Silently he left his hiding place and entered the room. This book had looked promising. Something about it drew him towards it, like it was calling him. It had to be very precious, worthy of his father's attention. Perhaps it contained unique spells or old knowledge, things that he could learn, allowing him to impress his father. He opened the secret compartment, his Malfoy blood and status as Lucius' heir allowing him to bypass the wards. This, and a little magical interference from said book. After all, it wanted to be found and used. Ah, there it was. The small black book sang to him. On any other day, the fear of punishment would have stopped him from doing something as stupid as this, but not today. Without hesitation he grabbed the book and put it into his pocket. Pride swelled his chest.

 _I'll show you, father._

Moments later the room was empty again.

Empty? Not completely, but neither father nor son ever saw the small houseelf watching them. Dobby had a bad feeling about the book. His master certainly had a reason to hide it from prying eyes. He would watch the young master, yes he would. Draco Malfoy sometimes was too clever for his own good.

Yes, Dobby would keep an eye on him.

.

 _ **Diagon Alley/London – last week of August (Harry Potter)**_

.

Hermione Granger felt nothing of her usual eagerness to enter a book shop. One year ago, she had certainly strained a couple of muscles in her mother's arm by dragging her towards Flourish and Blotts. Today, the woman at her side had nearly to push her towards the same shop. Alice Longbottom had luckily agreed to accompany her instead of her parents. It was better this way, with chances being they would meet the Weasleys. Neither of them noticed the small creature, hiding and watching Harry Potter, trying to get near him, to warn him, without his master seeing him. The Burrow had been warded against his intrusion, but Dobby so wanted to warn great Harry Potter.

As Hermione's plastic surgery went well, her parents had finally permitted her return to Hogwarts. Professor McGonagall had visited them, her expression turning sour when Hermione's parents tore into her. She had looked ashamed, but not enough to change Hermione's opinion about her former house head. And the professor still stayed with her decision about Ron Weasley's punishment. The mood declined steadily after that, reaching its low point when Hermione insisted on getting resorted. Despite Hermione uttering that wish in her earlier letter, Professor McGonagall had still hoped to convince the girl otherwise. It didn't help. She had brought along the Sorting Hat and a couple of minutes later Hermione had been granted her wish: she was a Ravenclaw now. The last straw, in Minerva's opinion, had been the girl's wish to continue her education in mundane subjects as well. "We never know…," her parents explained, hinting at the possibility of Hermione leaving Hogwarts completely and permanently. Her lesson plan would be obscenely cluttered, but it would be worth it in her parents' eyes and her own.

"It's quite crowded today, even more than usual," Alice stated trying to change the subject, rightly assuming the reason of Hermione's hesitation.

"Who is Gilderoy Lockhardt?" Hermione wondered, gesturing towards a poster, announcing a signing session of the "world-renowned fighter of dark creatures."

"Oh Merlin," Alice gasped. "I completely forgot about him. He'll be your DADA teacher this year. He supposedly battled dozens of dark creatures all over the world."

"Supposedly?"

Alice shrugged. "We only have his book statements and press articles to rely on for accuracy." She gestured towards the crowd of women, waiting giddily with books in their hands. "He has quite the fan community." She ushered the girl around the crowd and into the shop, trying to avoid the whole rigmarole. Regretfully, she was only partially successful. There were simply too many fans, mostly women her age she admitted, feeling slightly awkward about it.

"Granger?"

They whirled around, the voice well-known to Hermione – well-known and well-hated. Ron Weasley was standing over there with his whole family, a sea of redheads with Harry Potter, Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown among them. Lavender looked like she swallowed a frog. Parvati was indifferent, her slight glare telling Hermione that her friend – perhaps her former friend – already knew about her resorting. Harry was the only one looking a little guilty and attempted a weak smile. Ron's expression was a mix of confusion and growing resent. The twinkle in the Twins' eyes boded ill.

"Potter," Hermione nodded towards him. "Parvati," she smiled, hoping for the girl to return the gesture. It didn't come. Ignoring Lavender, she addressed Ron Weasley. "Yes, Granger, that's me," there was a slight sneer in her voice, her composure battling with her urge to throttle the boy.

"You really are returning," Ron declared, his confusion and disgust intensifying.

"What's a little troll in the course of education?" She cackled silently at the sight of the elder Weasleys flinching. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed the girl at Ron's side. His younger sister had apparently tried to step nearer and greet her, only to get stopped by Ron. Now he kept her arm in an iron grip, ignoring the glare she sent him. Hermione sighed. Another Weasley set against her it seemed. Ron would ascertain it. Her eyes widened as the small girl stamped on her brother's foot. Ron still didn't let go of the girl's arm. The sibling exchanged heated glares. _I'll have to watch how she behaves at school_.

"Hello Miss Granger," Percy's greetings distracted her. The boy ignored Ron's glare and the Twins even more obvious evil anticipation. At least he would be there. Hermione noticed the Prefect badge on his robe. This was so Percy to wear it proudly even over the break.

"Congratulations," she gestured towards the badge, causing the boy to blush. "I'm certain we'll see another badge on your robe next year."

"Brown-nose," Ron mumbled but not low enough. Hermione sighed. No, this year wouldn't be any easier than the last one. No luck there.

.

 _ **A wee bit later**_

They had left the book shop when Draco Malfoy appeared on the scene with his goons at his side. Greg hadn't acknowledged her. It was no surprise but still hurt a little. Within moments, the blond menace had started to lay in on the Weasleys, ridiculing them for their poverty and the company they kept. Hermione didn't need to watch this. She would have enough of that bullshit at Hogwarts.

It would only be days later that she would hear about Lucius Malfoy and Arthur Weasley getting into a shouting match and Goyle and Crabbe punching it out with Potter and Ron Weasley. She had no idea about the dark secret hiding behind those stupid acts, or that Draco Malfoy had instigated it to innocuously slip the book into Ginny's cauldron. No, right now she knew nothing about it all and was simply happy.

"Why, aren't you a clever boy," she cooed, missing how Alice rolled her eyes. The cat had been an early birthday present from Hermione's parents, hoping for at least one small friend of her daughter's to accompany her. Alice wondered about their reaction, seeing THIS cat: orange, bowlegged and with a squashed face this cat was certainly no beauty. But it had greeted the girl as soon as she entered the shop. From that moment on, there was no chance to hold her back from buying Crookshanks, as she had called her furry friend.

At least he was part Kneazle, so he would hopefully be more clever and supportive than a normal cat. The Kneazle's supposed abilities at judging characters could prove helpful as well in Hermione's quest for new friends.

Alice sighed, actually quite happy for the girl. Next year would be difficult enough for the both of them and she had no doubt she would see more of Hermione and her little friend.

.

 _I hate Ron, I really hate him. Why does he behave like an ass all the time?_ Ginny was pouring her little heart out, scribbling furiously. _Granger is a traitor. Looney is mad. Stay away from them, yadda yadda yadda_. The twins were the same. Only Percy treated her right, but they had never been very close with Percy being five years ahead of her. It helped to write all her anger into the little book she found in her cauldron. _I won't allow them to dictate my life_ , Ginny promised. _I'll show them_.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – September/October 1992 (Harry Potter)**_

.

 _ **DADA class room**_

"There is one thing I don't understand, Professor."

The dreamy voice of Luna Lovegood caused a couple of snickers and rude remarks, but stopped Professor Lockhart in his endless rambling. This alone got Luna points with Hermione, whose usual respect for teachers had gotten another nick listening to this narcissistic, blithering idiot. It didn't help one bit to watch most of the other girls fawn over the blond prat with dreamy eyes. She had her doubts about the effectiveness of most if not all of his methods to battle these so-called dark creatures. No, she expectantly listened, awaiting what detail fetched Luna's attention.

The weeks since her year at Hogwarts started hadn't been easy. To her surprise and unlike the rest of the Gryffindor first years, Ginny Weasley hadn't listened to her brothers. She didn't treat her like a traitor and at least tried to be polite. Regretfully, Parvati hadn't followed her lead and mostly ignored Hermione. With Greg still avoiding to be seen with her and Percy occupied with his own studies, this left her quite friendless – again. The Ravenclaws hadn't welcomed her either. While most of them liked studying, Hermione had forgotten a simple fact: they saw too much of a competition in her. Nobody wanted to hear about the genius of someone else, and Ravenclaws took that to an even higher level.

Professor McGonagall hadn't spent much time with "her cubs", partially because of her many other duties, Hermione assumed. Professor Flitwick wasn't much better. Neither he nor his prefects did anything to better the house unity. There were no clubs and no study groups, no support from older students and the younger ones learned fast not to disturb their elders' learning with "silly questions". At the beginning, some of the first years had turned to Hermione with their questions. This stopped soon after, however, with Cho Chang and Marietta Edgecombe, two third year Ravenclaws, scolding them. They spoke of self-reliance but only meant to distance them from the _pretend eagle_ , as they called her.

No, there was no house cohesion apart from one matter: bullying. It had started very early, with some of the older students staking out "their seat", be it in the common room, Great Hall or library. They fetched rare books from the library and were unwilling to part with them. And they had absolutely no patience for anybody who was different, the most eye-catching example being Luna "Looney" Lovegood. Hermione had her doubts about her tales and even more about the Quibbler, a tabloid that – in her eyes – held the same truth as Lockhart's books. But she didn't like to watch the other girls harass Luna because of it. They had left Hermione alone after she defended herself, getting some backing from Penelope Clearwater, the only prefect doing anything about it. So, they turned around and went looking for someone weaker and more vulnerable: Luna. Penelope tried to help her, but it was a lost battle. She couldn't be everywhere.

Hermione, so far, had remained on the sidelines. With her limp and her shattered shoulder, the scars in her face still visible and being friendless herself, she felt too vulnerable. She felt bad about it, but a little scared too. Perhaps it had been right to leave the house of courage. Perhaps that troll's club hadn't only shattered her bones back then.

"You wrote," Luna started with her soft voice, completely ignoring the other students mocking her, "that in August you were wandering with the Werewolves."

"That's right my dear," Professor Lockhart nodded eagerly, his voice like he was praising a puppy for behaving well.

"And you were on Holyday with the Hags around Halloween," she continued.

"Ah fearsome time, I have to admit," he sighed deeply. "And your question, dear?"

As an answer, Luna pulled a third book from her bag. Hermione recognized it, as she bought – and read – all of them, irrespective of her own opinion about such trash. "In this book you spend the whole time with Yetis in Tibet. Did you have a time-turner?"

Hermione blinked. Her mind raced. She tried to remember the mentioned dates. By god, the girl was right. There was no way the self-proclaimed hero could have been with the Werewolves and the Hags while spending all those months with the Yetis. _Why didn't I notice?_ Hermione wondered, scolding herself for discussing the pro and con of his spells and weapons and their effectiveness, but overlooking something so simple and obvious.

Professor Lockhart blinked as well and paled quite a bit. For a long time, he said nothing and it was quite obvious how he was thinking about some kind of explanation. Obvious to Hermione, but apparently not to everyone.

"It's a printing error," Ginny interjected. She was one of Lockhart's biggest fan girls, the one matter Hermione didn't like about the redheaded girl. So far, she had been more or less the only Gryffindor treating Luna right but had rebuffed every attempt at spending more time together as well. Hermione had the impression that she actually wanted to befriend the blonde Claw but also tried to protect her. Every time Luna had been seen speaking with her, she got pranked afterwards, either from the Twins or Ron Weasley, often combined with a warning to keep away from their precious sister. They had tried the same about Hermione and her friendship with Percy, but she didn't heed their warnings. She didn't want to lose the one friend she still had. Luna looked hurt by Ginny's rebukes. She had obviously hoped for more. Hermione wondered if the girls had known each other before Hogwarts.

"Looney," Ginny added after a moment, forcing a condescending cackle over her lips. It got her a shoulder clap from another Gryffindor and Luna, with tears flowing, running out of the class room. Hermione stared at the redheaded girl. This was so unlike her. Ginny's eyes widened. She looked horrified by her own words, like she couldn't believe herself what she had said.

"Now, now," Lockhart shook his head. "At least she read my books."

And Hermione, staying in the class room because leaving early was like a sacrilege to her, felt worse than ever.

.

 _What have I done?_ Ginny silently cried. _Why did I call her a Looney? This isn't me. I have to apologize. Yes, right tomorrow morning I'll apologize to her_.

.

 _ **A couple of days later – Gryffindor common room**_

"Shush, go away. This is Weasleys-only business."

With a slight pout Colin Creevey obeyed. When he arrived at Hogwarts six weeks ago, he had been eager to meet Harry Potter. He was his hero, and Colin wasted no time in telling him this. Brandishing his magical camera, he followed him all over the campus like a lost puppy. Harry felt awkward about it, this much was clear. Ron had been angry in the beginning, even tried to stop Colin with threats, only to change his behaviour completely after a few days. Colin had no idea why, but suddenly Ron behaved towards him like he was an old friend, most of the time at least. He even urged Harry to pose for Colin now and then, with Ron prominently at his side. Some of those pictures even found their way into the Daily Prophet. Today however, he wasn't welcome and had to watch them from farther away. Three of the Weasleys had gathered, with the oldest boy and the only girl missing. Harry was there as well, his status as Ron's surrogate brother apparently allowing him to stay. What were they talking about? Colin wondered.

"Where's Ginny?" Harry asked at the same time.

"No idea," Ron shrugged. He hadn't spent much time with Ginny since school started. Most afternoons she was sitting somewhere, writing into her little black book and glaring at him or the Twins. He assumed it to be some kind of diary. _Perhaps she is righting about 99 ways how to hurt me_ , he snickered. She certainly looked that way. Not that he dared to have a peek. Ron had no death wish. His sister was scary when angered. In the end, he didn't really care. As long as Ginny didn't fraternise with traitors, he left her alone and was happy to see and hear nothing of her. His promises to his mother about taking care of Ginny were long forgotten. Other things were more important, things such as his increasing fame. Alright, there were more impressing reputations than being "sidekick-of-the-boy-who-lived", but it was a start. At least, every teenager knew his picture now.

"At least she isn't spending time with Looney and Granger anymore," Ron sneered. He had done his best to stop any friendship from running its course. Ginny hadn't been amused about his "brotherly command", but he had gotten some support from the Twins. They didn't like Granger either. In their eyes as well she was a traitor to House Gryffindor. Malicious gossip had it that Headmaster Dumbledore's promise to help them with their joke shop in a couple of years influenced their behaviour as well. Albus expected them to be supportive of Ron and Harry, something they weren't opposed about from the start. Not allowed anymore to prank their youngest brother, they had been looking for other targets. And Granger was a sufficient replacement in their eyes.

"We should teach her a lesson," Fred uttered. Three times already, Granger had reported one of their pranks to the teachers. Not that the twins minded detention. It was part of the life of a prankster. But nobody liked a rat – apart from Ron.

"Perhaps we could target her cat this time," Ron offered.

"Hurting an animal?" Harry didn't like the idea.

"Not hurting," George interjected, not noticing the expression on Ron's face. "Change its colour perhaps, lasting for a couple of days."

"She'll go crazy," Fred nodded.

Ron stayed quiet. He had thought about something different, but he would watch the twins for now. And next time, when he pranked that blasted cat, the traitor would assume the twins to be the culprits again. He grinned evilly. _Blasted cat, you'll pay for scratching me and hunting my little Scabbers_.

.

 _ **A week later**_

"See – as good as new."

Professor Flitwick smiled, watching Hermione as she pulled Crookshanks into her arms. Poppy hadn't been able to help about the neon green colouring and neither did Hagrid. In the end, she had asked Filius for help. It had been difficult to break the charm. The culprit had been talented with Charms. Luckily it hadn't been a potion. He doubted Severus would have been as eager to help the girl. Yes, it seemed, the dour Potions master didn't hate her as much as a year before. Hermione Granger had noticeable reduced her hand-waving, something most of the teachers actually regretted. Severus on the other hand had been pleased. Combined with the fact of her resorting, it resulted in Hermione being left to her own devices in potions most of the time. Still, Severus didn't like her very much and would certainly sneer about any requests for help.

"Thank you, professor," Hermione said, pressing her head into Crookshanks' soft fur – his orange again fur. Looking up, she frowned. "But what about the Twins?"

"What about them?" Filius quipped. He didn't have to ask which twins she was speaking about.

"There is no doubt they did this. They should be punished. It is one thing to prank me, but something different to torment an animal." It hadn't only been the colour. There was some smell in it as well, driving Crookshanks crazy. Hermione had endured more than a dozen pranks over the past 6 weeks, and she had stayed silent after her first attempts to get a teacher involved. But this she took personally. To her horror Filius sighed only.

"I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but I can't do anything. There is no proof…"

"You could interrogate them at least," Hermione proposed, "tell them that it is wrong to hurt an animal."

"I can't simply accuse a student, Miss Granger. Professor McGonagall wouldn't stand for it." Filius knew how much support the Weasleys got from Albus and Minerva. Their opinion was more than a tad biased, not unlike how Severus treated his Slytherins. However, he could hardly tell her why his hands were bound.

Hermione glared at him. Filius felt embarrassed but he was too limited in his options. With a low hiss, Hermione turned around. "I should have guessed. Why did I even bother? You teachers never do anything. You're none better than the rest." She started to walk away.

"Miss Granger…"

Opening the door, she turned around a last time. "I suggest you use a quiet hour to peruse your copy of _Hogwarts a History_ , Professor. Perhaps you'll find chapter 28 most helpful." Without waiting for an answer, she left and closed the door behind her a little forcefully.

Filius stared at the door, feeling baffled. It had been a long time since a student spoke to him like this. And the worst? He had the feeling Miss Granger was right. "Accio Hogwarts a History," he used wandless magic to summon his book. He hadn't read it for some time, but as a Ravenclaw at heart he naturally had an exemplar. Flipping through the pages, he found the mentioned spot seconds later.

"Chapter 28 … Head of House: Privileges and Duties," Filius let the book sink to his knees. He had much to think about.

.

 _ **Ravenclaw Tower – A few minutes later**_

Neither Padma nor Luna was in sight when Hermione entered the Ravenclaw common room, Crookshanks in her arms. Her cat was still a bit flustered from the experience, deepened by the angry vibes he got from his mistress aka tin opener. Hermione hadn't really expected the Twins to get what they deserved, but had still hoped for… something. Something more, a little word of moral support or at least an attempt to get the riddle of the culprit solved. Not that there was any doubt in her eyes. _God!_ Probably she only had to ask them. Knowing the Twins, they would gloat over their evil deed. She hissed in fury. Crookshanks was proud of his royal bearer. It was a very catlike hiss.

"What are you doing there?"

Hermione's expression should have warned the girls even more than her tone of voice. She had spent the time on her way back with imagining ways how to punish the Twins. Tarring and feathering had been high on her list of disciplinary measures, castrating with a blunt spoon not far below. She only wanted to be alone, a wish that wasn't granted to her. Instead, she found two girls in her dorm – two girls that weren't Firsties even.

"This has nothing to do with you," Marietta Edgecombe sneered. "Go away, little girl." Cho only glanced up for a moment, before she continued to rummage through a chest – Luna's chest actually. There already was a small heap of things on the bed, a growing heap as Cho added more socks and underwear to it. Blood started to pound in Hermione's ears and her anger spiked as she remembered Luna mumbling something about Wrackspurts stealing her things. _No, not Wrackspurts_ , Hermione growled, _and certainly no Eagles either but stealing Crows at best_.

"That chest belongs to Luna. You have no reason to rummage through her things." Hermione dropped Crookshanks and put her hand on her wand.

Marietta rolled her eyes. "Yes, we have. We have to teach her a lesson. She's annoying everyone with her silly stories about creatures that don't even exist. She's damaging the reputation of us, real Ravenclaws."

"You know who is damaging our reputation?" Hermione growled. On any other day, she would have backed away. She wasn't looking for a confrontation, usually. She only wanted to be left alone. But this was wrong. Luna didn't deserve this. Crooks didn't deserve this. _A good woman doing nothing stops being a good woman_. Her mother had raised her better. This had to stop now. "You filthy thieves do," Hermione hissed and lifted her wand. "Leave… now. Never again enter this room without invitation."

"Now listen…"

"No, you listen, and listen very carefully." Hermione harshly interrupted her. "Luna is hurting no one with her stories. I don't know if these creatures exist and actually I don't care. If she is happy to believe in them, it is her decision. It is absolutely no reason to bully her."

"I'm no…"

"YOU ARE BULLIES AND NOTHING ELSE." She was screaming now. The whole common room downstairs was listening but she didn't care. She opened the door, her temper allowing her to do it wordlessly with a simple flick of her wand, not that she cared or even noticed. "Leave, now," she growled in a dangerous tone.

"You don't actually believe…" Marietta started only to have her words turn into a high-pitched scream as she felt herself being pushed straight across the room and out of the door. Cho was a little cleverer, lifting her hands in surrender as Hermione turned towards her, wand shaking from pure rage. Hermione followed Cho into the common room, staying at the door and trying to calm herself. She so wanted to kick these bastards down the stairs.

"This applies for all of you. You will stop harassing Luna. Start treating her as a member of our House. Leave her alone if you must, but don't bully her anymore. She doesn't deserve this and this stops here and now."

"I don't…" Marietta was really unable to keep her gob shut. She even dared to brandish her own wand, not that it helped her.

"Expelliarmus! Incarcerous! Silencio!" Five seconds, three spells, not bad, mostly thanks to her adrenalin. "No pushing her around, no deriding remarks and certainly no stealing her things," she sent a baleful glare towards Marietta and Cho. Her last remark prompted the mood to darken from a number of students listening to the exchange. Deriding was one thing, stealing something completely different. "From now on, Luna is under my protection."

From any other Firsty those words would have caused a wave of laughter, but not from her, not now with Hermione standing there like an avenging angel. This moment, caused by a nasty prank of the Twins, changed the dynamic of the Ravenclaw towers for years to come.

.

 _ **The next afternoon**_

Hermione was on her way to her first detention ever at Hogwarts and she felt bad. Not because of the detention, or the reason behind it – attacking another student with magic – and certainly not about standing up for Luna; no, she felt bad because she had hesitated far too long to do something. For weeks she had known about the harassing. It had been crystal clear to her how wrong this kind of rotten behavior was. Her parents had taught her about the importance of standing up for your beliefs. And still: she had cowered in fear. She had allowed her past, her limp and her scars, to dictate her life.

Admittedly, Luna's stories creeped her out a bit. They were against everything she believed in. Her mind worked in an orderly manner, following the straight roads of scientific reasoning. She needed the written word, documented sightings with believable and trustworthy witnesses. Otherwise, it was only a child's story, basically none better than Lockhart`s silly books. However, as she told her housemates: Luna hurt nobody with her stories. Perhaps they were wrong and complete nonsense, but so what? This was absolutely no reason to hurt her. _Girls like Edgecombe and Chang need somebody to bully_ , Hermione thought. _Without Luna, they would have found somebody else to harass, perhaps me_.

Hermione stopped and looked down at her leg. She hated it. She hated her limp, she hated her lopsided shoulders and she hated the scars in her face. And she hated Ron Weasley for being the reason of them all. Most of all however she hated what they did to her. She had stayed in the background, not because she didn't belief in standing up for Luna, but because she feared to draw attention to herself, feared to be the next target. Hermione sniffled, angrily wiping her nose and tears with her sleeve. She felt Crooks purring around her legs, the sound calming her nerves a little.

"We'll do better in the future, Crooks. We'll help her." Perhaps his small nod was only imagination, but she was thankful for his moral support.

The Twins had opened her eyes. Her anger had forced her to react at last. For this she would forgive them – this once. _But if you ever hurt Crooks again…_

She only hoped Ginny would see the light as well. The day after her blaring insult, she had apologized profusely to Luna. The girls had even spent a bit of time together, only for Ginny to make a one eighty again a week later. _I? Your friend? You're dreaming_ , Ginny had sneered one morning without any forewarning, sending the blonde running in tears again. Ginny had watched her, looking slightly confused. Confused – yes, that was the one word to describe the Weasley girl.

.

 _ **Ten minutes later**_

"Kwikspell – a quick guide," Hermione whispered. Argus Filch's office had been empty on her arrival and Hermione had never been able to ignore a book, this booklet being one she had never seen before. Turning towards the index – something most books missed in the magical world to her bafflement and chagrin – it slowly dawned on her that this was meant for Squibs and near-Squibs to increase their magic. There had been rumours about Caretaker Filch being a Squib. Apparently those rumours were founded.

"What are you doing there?"

Hermione lost her grip on the book and it toppled onto the table with a loud bang. Before she had a chance to react, Hermione was pushed aside by a frighteningly angry Argus Filch. Hastily, he grabbed the book and stored it into a desk drawer, closing it loudly.

"I'm sorry," Hermione mumbled.

"You think this is funny, don't you?" Argus Filch grumbled. "You think…" He stopped, staring at something behind her. "What's that?"

Hermione turned around. There was a comfy chair standing under the sole small window of the room. Actually, it looked far comfier than the one Argus Filch seemed to use. A folded quilt was on the chair and lying on top of it…

"Crooks, go away."

Mrs Norris, Argus Filch's beloved cat was sitting on her hind legs and glaring at the orange tomcat occupying HER SPACE. She jumped on the chair and hissed. Crooks, being easily twice her size, only turned a sleepy eye towards the disturber.

"That's your blasted cat?" Argus growled.

Hermione narrowed her eyes in anger. "That's Crookshanks and he is my friend. My only friend." Her last words were whispered and not meant to be heard, but Argus was standing close enough to do so. "Crooks, that's her chair. Be a nice boy."

Crookshanks actually obeyed. He crawled away a couple of inches, not leaving the chair but allowing Mrs Norris to lie down as well. The cat eyed him warily and scrunched her nose. Crooks started to purr, and after some moments it seemed enough to calm Mrs Norris' volatile temper. Her little paws stamped on the quilt until she was content with its condition and settled down as well. Moments later, both cats were resting side by side, filling the room with their purring.

"I'm sorry," Hermione apologized. "Usually, he isn't this…"

"It's alright," Argus waved her off. "He seems to be a good boy. Mrs Norris doesn't allow every cat on her chair."

"They seem to get along, don't they?" Hermione asked with a soft smile. Most students hated Mrs Norris nearly as much as the dour caretaker. Crookshanks didn't seem to share that sentiment.

"Yes, they do." Argus was far calmer now than at the start of the exchange.

For a while, both cat-people observed their little friends in shared silence. Hermione glanced towards Argus Filch. It's certainly rough, she mused, living at Hogwarts and being the only one without magic. Even Hagrid had some magic. "I could help you," she offered. "With the book, I mean. Perhaps we could have a look together."

Argus Filch narrowed his eyes. For a moment, Hermione wondered if she overstepped a line, breaking their little standout. After a tense minute, Argus relaxed. "That would be… appreciated."

This way started one of the most unusual detentions in the history of Hogwarts.

.

 _ **The day before Halloween**_

.

"I never thanked you for defending me."

Luna and Hermione were walking towards the potions class room. Since serving her detention, Hermione had added two people to her very short list of friends, or at least acquaintances: Luna Lovegood and Argus Filch. The dour caretaker still creeped her out a little, however, he was determined and persistent in his wish to learn magic, she gave him that. Hermione wasn't certain about its success, but she had to try at least. I have to learn about how to test a magical core, she mused. _What defines a Squib? How is he different to a Muggle?_ Perhaps her own parents were Squibs as well. Her magic had to come from somewhere.

"It was nothing." Hermione responded, feeling awkward about it.

Luna however wanted nothing of that. She stopped; her usual dreamy voice was very serious now. "It wasn't nothing. Nobody ever stood up for me. Even Ginny…" She stopped, tears shooting into her eyes. Without hesitation Hermione stepped forward and hugged her.

"I should have done it earlier." She stepped back a little and sighed. "My mother wouldn't be proud of me for waiting this long before doing anything." Hermione stared at her shoe tips. "I was scared."

"Scared? You?" Luna wondered. "But you're so brave. You stood up to them, two older girls. For me."

Hermione shook her head. "Only because I was angry… angry with the Twins for pranking Crooks. Otherwise I wouldn't have done it. I wanted to stay in the shadows." Her voice turned into a low whisper. "The troll changed so much."

"Not anymore," Luna said urgently, her hands grabbing Hermione's. "This doesn't define you," she gestured towards the scars, proving that she was more insightful than Hermione assumed. "This defines you and this," she touched her head and pointed towards her heart.

"You think so?" Hermione doubted.

"I know so," Luna was convinced.

Hermione smiled. "You know who is brave? You are. You're telling everybody about Nargles and Wrackspurts and everything you believe in, without caring for their reactions. That I call brave."

Luna's smile was as bright as Hermione's. "Then let's be brave together."

.

"He looks sad."

Luna turned around and searched for what Hermione was looking at. "Headless Nick?"

"Yeah," Hermione nodded. "Don't you think?"

Luna agreed. The ghost of House Gryffindor looked a bit downtrodden, certainly not his usual flittery self. Without waiting, Luna started to walk towards him, forcing Hermione to follow her, her left foot clomping a little with every limping step. "Hello Sir Nicholas, how do you do?" Luna greeted him with her friendliest smile.

"Hello Miss …"

"Lovegood," Luna prompted.

"Lovegood, yes. And hello Miss Granger, welcome back to Hogwarts." Wasn't it a bit pathetic that one of the few beings at Hogwarts happy about her return to be a ghost? Hermione sighed inwardly, feeling even more pathetic because she was happy about his honest joy to meet her.

"Hello, Sir Nicholas," she greeted him. "Sorry for asking, but you looked a bit sad from over there. Is something wrong?"

"No," Nick shook his head. "It's nothing. It's only… tomorrow is my death-day again, for the five-hundredth time actually."

"Oh, that's… nice," Hermione wasn't sure how to react to that news. Was it a reason for celebration or condolence?

"Will there be a celebration?" Luna happily asked.

"Yes, there will," Nick's mood brightened. "Ghosts from all over Scotland are expected. Even Sir Patrick promised to show up."

"He's the Leader of the Headless Hunt, isn't he?" Leave it to Luna to know such obscure things, Hermione smiled.

"Yes, yes," Nick agreed, nodding eagerly with his head bumping every time.

"Then why are you sad? Isn't that a reason for joy and exuberance?" Hermione asked.

"I wanted to invite a few other guests," Nick explained. "You know: from the living sort."

"Ah," Hermione understood. "And they declined."

"Yes," Nick sighed. "I asked Mister Potter. I was an acquaintance of his father back then in his time. But alas, he and Mister Weasley preferred to go to the Halloween party in the Great Hall."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. She assumed it was mostly Ron Weasley who preferred the feast. _His stomach had spoken_.

"We would be happy to get an invitation to your death-day party, Sir Nicholas," Luna gushed.

"You would?" Nick asked, looking hopeful.

"We would?" Hermione asked, knowing nothing of the sort so far.

With surprising force Luna put her tiny foot down on Hermione's one. "We would."

Hermione suppressed a hiss and forced a smile before addressing Sir Nicholas. "We would be happy to visit your party."

"Splendid!"

.

 _ **Night of Halloween**_

.

"That certainly was…" Hermione frowned, uncertain how to describe the experience of the death-day party.

"Exciting?" Luna suggested. "Marvellous? Wonderful?"

"Let's stay with _unique_ ," Hermione smiled softly. Watching Luna and her giddy behaviour – even giddier than usual – another appropriate word would have been _senses-overloading._ Was that even a word? Anyway, it was more than nice to see Luna this happy. She was skipping down the corridor, cheerfully chattering about the ghosts, the weird dishes – none of them palatable to the girls – and Nick's recitation. Too bad Sir Patrick had to distract everybody from Nick's opus with his silly _Headless Hunt_ stunt. Spending the evening in the Great Hall with the other 'Claws wouldn't have been half this exciting for Luna, Hermione assumed. Silently she followed Luna, smiling softly and allowing her to babble about this and that, about everything that came to her mind. Sometimes Hermione wondered if Luna was even able to think without speaking her thoughts.

 _How could I know what I think if I don't hear what I say?_ She read this somewhat weird sentence in a book years ago. It could have been meant to describe Luna as well.

Hermione only stopped her new friend and gestured her to be silent, when she noticed someone talking around the corner. Actually it was more like yelling in an accusing manner. _That's Mister Filch_ , she realized, inching forward to have a sneaky look. Her attempt at sneaking and hiding fell a bit flat, because Luna – her sneaking looking more than a little ridiculous and like straight out of a "Tom and Jerry" cartoon – followed her, only to stop to Hermione's left … right in the middle of the corridor and in clear sight. She stood there, crouched and with her finger on her lips gesturing not to say a word, before she pushed some underbrush aside to have a better look – underbrush only Luna saw. Luna looked so ridiculous that Hermione had to bite on her lower lip not to laugh out loud.

"It was Potter," Argus Filch howled, his face red with anger and his hands like claws, eager to throttle the boy. It was Professor Snape who stopped him from doing so, his face telling everybody that he was quite unhappy about the need to protect the boy from harm. Harry Potter was cowering as far away from Argus Filch as the corridor walls allowed, with Ron Weasley at his side, his pale face a strong contrast to his red hair.

"Poor Mrs Norris," Luna whispered, noticing the reason of the squabble. "Do you think Crooks already knows?" Crookshanks loved Luna dearly, this being another proof in Hermione's eyes that it had been the right thing to befriend the blond girl. Since her detention, he had expanded his circle of friends to encompass Argus Filch and Mrs Norris as well. He visited her daily, sometimes even accompanying her when she followed Mister Filch around the school. Hermione gasped. Poor Mrs Norris seemed to be petrified or something. Professor Flitwick was examining her, while Professor Snape still tried to calm Mister Filch.

Her mind raced, wondering how such a thing could ever happen. What kind of spell or potion would petrify a cat? Why would anybody do such a thing in the first place? She had no idea. Hermione dragged Luna away. This deserved a closer investigation.

Poor Mister Filch. Poor Crooks.

.

 _ **Next day**_

"I don't think Harry is responsible for this attack, Mister Filch." It hadn't been a surprise for Hermione to find Argus Filch in the hospital, visiting his beloved cat.

"Those thugs were there, poking at Mrs Norris like some… some dead meat." He was in angry tears, something Hermione felt sympathetic to. She would be the same with Crooks hurt, and Mrs Norris had been around Mister Filch for far longer. Too bad, the Mandrake roots needed a couple more months before getting ready for the antidote. Mrs Norris would be petrified for months to come. Perhaps, she mused, Crooks could accompany him from time to time. It wouldn't be the same but still.

"Nonetheless," Hermione insisted. "They're troublemaker and pranksters, but they wouldn't hurt a cat." Ron actually more than once had threatened Crooks because of the tomcat's unusual interest in his mangy rat, but this she hadn't to mention right now. At least she was certain Harry Potter would never willingly hurt an animal. "It looks more like a prank gone bad." She hesitated, a thought coming to her mind – a vicious thought actually. "A prank like what the Twins would do."

Argus Filch sniffled but looked up. "You think?"

Hermione hesitated again. It was kind of petty revenge sending the caretaker onto the twins. She was quite certain even they wouldn't petrify a cat – quite but not absolutely certain. And then there was the matter with Crooks. "They pranked Crooks as well. They coloured his fur and there was some smell in it that drove him crazy. They really don't care for cats."

Argus Filch accepted the explanation and nodded. "They even have a rat. Blasted animal!"

"It's not even on the list of allowed animals," Hermione mentioned, nodding eagerly. It had been one more reason to hate Ron Weasley – when she asked Professor McGonagall about the rat she got some silly answer about the Headmaster allowing it.

"They don't care for the lists," Argus Filch shook his head in sad disappointment.

"Zonko's," Hermione sighed, remembered the list of forbidden things proclaimed at the welcoming feast.

"Zonko's," Filch sighed as well. He fervently hated that joke shop.

Hermione left the hospital a wee bit later. She was certain about two things: Argus Filch honestly loved his cat more than any human being, and the twins would be in for a rough ride for the next few weeks.

.

 _ **A/N**_

 _Part 2 of "The Chamber of Secrets" in two weeks._


	6. Chapter 6 Chamber of Secrets (92-93) - 2

_**A/N**_

 _Dragyn42 mentioned that Ginny is inconsistent in chapter 5. He was right and I added a couple sentences and changed a few things. Hopefully, it will be clearer now. This time (unlike the Ginny from the books), her reason for writing into the diary was not loneliness but her growing anger about her brothers' behaviour. She still could have turned out being a friend to Hermione and Luna, but the book influenced her too much too soon. From this chapter onward, she will therefore be a back-seat character only._

 **.**

 **The Chamber of Secrets (summer 1992 to summer 1993) – Part 2**

.

 _ **Hogwarts – November 1992 (Harry Potter)**_

.

"Pretty please?" Parvati whined, fluttering her eyelashes and making puppy eyes at Hermione, who wasn't impressed at all. While her bond with Luna had strengthened with every passing day, her former friendship with Parvati had dissolved into nothingness over time. The quirky blond girl already knew her better than anybody else apart from her parents and possibly Alice Longbottom. Hermione still didn't know if the creatures she mentioned in every other sentence really existed, but she started to miss those tales on the days the girls had to spend some time apart. Parvati on the other hand had barely acknowledged her presence for the past three months. It had really hurt Hermione, who had liked her carefree letters last spring. And now, out of the blue, she was asking for help.

"Why should I help you?"

"Because we're…"

"Don't you dare say friends," Hermione hissed. "Try another one." She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, the tip of her foot tapping impatiently.

Parvati sighed: "Because we can't do this without you." She waited for a reaction that didn't come. "Look, I know I behaved like…"

"…a git," Hermione offered helpfully.

Parvati flinched like she had been slapped, knowing that she deserved it. "Yes. But we really need your help for this."

Hermione had no doubt they needed her assistance. Brewing Polyjuice wasn't something that would come easy to Parvati – or Harry Potter. She shuddered, thinking about his inability to brew even the simplest potions without causing some dangerous – and often quite explosive – accident. "What do you need it for?"

"Ron thinks Malfoy is the Heir of Slytherin."

Hermione cackled evilly. "He really thinks so, does he? He's even more stupid than I thought."

"Like you know any better?" Parvati hissed back.

"Better than Ron Weasley? Every day of the year," Hermione mocked, feeling insulted to be compared with that dunderhead. "So, to summarize your _inspired_ plan: you intend to use Polyjuice to break into the Slytherin dorms and interrogate Malfoy, with you presumably posing as Parkinson and Weasley as what… Crabbe? At least Weasley wouldn't have to pretend to say anything intelligent."

"He's not that stupid, you know" Parvati pouted.

Hermione raised a single eyebrow, her thoughts evident: _you really think so_? Her expression turned thoughtful. "Actually, you're right about that." Parvati was surprised for a second until Hermione continued. "It's an insult to Crabbe to be compared to Ron in that way. Alright, alright, I'll do it. But," she pushed Parvati back when she rushed in to hug her. "You provide the ingredients and enough for two additional vials."

"You're the best," Parvati gushed.

"I hope I won't regret this," Hermione mumbled. At least, she would get two vials of Polyjuice out of the deal. _You never know when that might come in handy_ …

.

 _ **Two weeks later**_

.

When Luna, Hermione and Crookshanks visited their friends Argus Filch and Mrs Norris once again in the hospital wing – ignoring the fact that this weird friendship alienated them even more from most other students – they found two other "guests" hanging around. Harry Potter's accident during the Gryffindor/Slytherin Quidditch game had been all the school talked about, all the more when considering Professor Lockhart's failed healing attempt. It was however the sight of a petrified Colin Creevey that disturbed them all deeply. The girls had left the tower in hopes to avoid Chang and Edgecombe, but it was far worse to see the little boy frozen as if in death. Ron Weasley's presence didn't help either, as he was mostly there to complain about Colin being unable to take pictures for months to come. Hermione had the dire urge to kick his stupid ass, and Luna obviously felt the same. However, unwilling to make a mess for Madam Pomfrey to clean up later, they hastily departed before their patience snapped.

Regretfully it only got worse from there.

"Hello Mudblood," Draco Malfoy's sneer stopped them cold. As usual, Goyle and Crabbe were standing at his side like some silent bookends. Gregory smiled apologetically; Crabbe looked bored and actually rolled his eyes. Draco's behaviour was hardly news. "Had a good look at your future room already? Very wise of you. It's only a question of time until the heir catches you as well."

"You think this is funny?" Hermione may have ignored his rambling, if not for Ron Weasley's stupidity and lack for compassion. I mean, really? His _friend_ Colin Creevey is petrified, will lose months of his life and all he thinks about is the lack of new photos for some stupid Daily Prophet articles!

"Actually this is hilarious! Dumbledore should never have allowed lowlifes into Hogwarts. Now he has to pay the bill. My father…"

"Your father was a Death Eater. He followed some moronic fanatic, and slobbered over the pain and death of the helpless," Luna's voice was so different from her usually serene one, Hermione needed a couple of seconds to realize she was speaking.

"Looney," Draco sneered. "Shut up! My father…"

"Your father is a coward," Hermione stopped him cold.

"What? How dare you?"

"How dare I? No, how dare you! You're all talk about your father this and your father that. About how much both of you hate us Muggleborns and how much you would like to kill us. But in the end, he was too much of a coward to stand up for his beliefs, wasn't he? Did he or did he not claim to be under the Imperious ?"

Draco made a very believable fish imitation, unable to reciprocate in kind. "You know nothing," was his weak, delayed, answer.

"Enlighten us then," Hermione crossed her arms and smiled mockingly.

"You're too dumb to understand."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Then use small words." She waited a minute. When no more words came from Malfoy, she started to walk away, only to find a hand painfully clamping down on her arm.

"You'll pay for this, Mudblood," Draco hissed.

But Hermione looked anything but impressed or frightened.

"Let her go," Luna ordered with a surprisingly cold voice.

Draco actually did take a step back before turning around, sneering: "and if I don't? What will you do, Looney?"

The stupid boy bent forward, invading her private bubble in an attempt to frighten her off. Her reaction certainly was not as expected.

"Ah, fuck," Draco screamed, flinching back while pressing his hand on his nose.

Hermione blinked. She couldn't believe it… Luna had just head-butted the vain Slytherin, and broken his nose to boot, judging by the sharp sound.

There was fear in his eyes now, fear but also hate. "Beat them up," he ordered.

Hermione stepped forward to stand protectively in front of her smaller friend.

Crabbe looked unhappy, but hesitantly moved towards them to obey, to be stopped by Goyle. "No," he said calmly, shaking his head.

"No?" Draco screamed, hissing from the pain. "What do you mean no? I gave you an order."

"We don't rough up little girls," Greg said quite convincingly.

"We don't?" Crabbe wondered.

"Nope," Greg said, plopping the P. "Millie would be very unhappy about this."

That got through Crabbe's thick skull, just as Greg knew it would. While Millie had some silly idea about convincing Greg to become her boyfriend, it was obvious to him how much of a crush Vince Crabbe had on her. Millie's opinion was very important to him.

"What has Millie got to do with this?" Draco asked.

"You wouldn't understand," Greg replied, prompting broad smiles from the girls. He knew he would pay for this later, but he had to stop this fight from happening. It was one thing to have to ignore his Muggleborn friend, but quite another to have to hurt her physically. He gestured towards Draco's nose and robe. "You should let Madam Pomfrey treat this. You're bleeding all over your robe." Instead of waiting for a reply, he bowed slightly – mostly towards Luna and not Hermione, not to enrage Draco even more. "Ladies!" He got a thankful smile from Hermione.

She would have hated to hex him and she actually believed he wasn't willing to attack any girl. He was kind of an old-school gentleman when he was allowed to be, an attitude that caused him a fair amount of troubles more than once with his dear father.

Crabbe calmly walked away. Vince frowned for a moment, shrugged helplessly then followed his friend. Greg was his mate, and mates were important.

.

"I'll show them." Draco fumed on his way to the hospital. His face hurt. Stupid girl. Why did Goyle have to be so difficult? Goyle and Crabbe weren't his friends, they were his henchmen, just like their fathers were his father's. What good were henchmen if they couldn't even obey simple orders?

 _Father!_ He was somewhat afraid thinking about him. He was feeling as if he had done something stupid, something that deserved punishment. Just like when he tested his new broom in the manor and destroyed one of the family paintings. He hadn't been able to sit for two days after that. Draco thought about the past few weeks. To his knowledge, he hadn't done anything similar. Nothing deserving more than the loss of a couple of points, or perhaps a small detention. Nothing his father would be too unhappy about. So, why did his body start to tremble only thinking about him?

There were other things as well. A few days after the welcome feast, Crabbe mentioned something. Apparently, Draco had ordered Goyle and Crabbe to start a fight with Potty and Weasel. Only, he couldn't remember such an order. Why would he have done such a thing? Draco's head hurt even more. There was something he ought to remember. He was sure, but what? Draco sighed. _It can't be important_ , he persuaded himself. _Perhaps I'll remember it in a couple of days_.

.

 _ **Start of December**_

.

"That was kind of disappointing," Hermione sighed, slumping down on the couch and putting her heavy book bag on the floor, a deep frown on her face. She had hoped for more from the duelling club their DADA teacher had organized.

"It could have gone better," Luna agreed. "but it was nice from Professor Lockhart to allow Professor Snape to successfully disarm him."

"Yes, he's such a considerate sweetheart, isn't he?" Hermione teased. Neither girl believed Lockhart's silly excuse but it had been hilarious to watch, Hermione had to admit.

The whole "Serpensortia" matter however had dampened the mood a little. Draco Malfoy, who arranged to duel Harry Potter, had used that spell to dispatch a vicious looking snake towards his opponent. One useless dispelling attempt from Professor Lockhart later and the snake was attacking a different student: Justin Finch-Fletchley. Harry Potter had tried to help the poor boy – at least Hermione assumed it was that what he had in mind. Regretfully, being such a bad student, it only worsened the situation. In the end, the snake actually bit Justin and now everybody was talking about Harry being the Heir of Slytherin. Hermione sighed. Hopefully her Polyjuice potion would help Harry to prove his innocence – despite her belief that Draco wasn't the heir either.

"Millie really had it in for you," Luna mused loudly.

Hermione had to agree. The big girl had hate in her eyes when they duelled. Hermione had no idea why though. She had barely ever spoken with the huge girl, but it nearly evolved into a slugging match. Luna had to stop them, proving another point: Greg had been right about Millie. She somehow had a soft spot for the blond Claw. While she was quite willing to punch Hermione, she instantly stopped the fight when Luna stepped in.

"Do you think next time will be better?" Hermione wondered. "I have my doubts..."

"We should train for ourselves," Luna suggested.

"Do you think so?"

"Yes, I do. We both know quite a few spells already. You're a bit stronger and I'm more agile." Hermione agreed so far. Her limp slowed her down a little but her magic was stronger than Luna's, partially because she was a year older.

"And we both should be able to learn more spells fast." It had been one of the things she had learned over the past month: while Hermione was better at the theory and far ahead at writing an orderly essay – something Luna countered by writing in a more exciting way and teaching Hermione to shorten her works and replace quotations by thoughts of her own – the girls were equally strong at grasping new spells quickly.

"We could ask Professor Flitwick about a suitable place," Luna offered carefully. She knew that Hermione still wasn't on best terms with their Head of House. She hadn't forgiven his former lack of interest in how Luna was treated by her housemates.

Hermione sighed but agreed. "It would be best. We could really use more duelling practice." Neither girl detailed why: the recent attacks and the continued bullying they were subject to. They were more than willing to protect each other and now they would work on doing it more efficiently.

.

 _ **Christmas Break**_

.

"So, we'll have a Christmas tree as well?" Luna asked.

She had pelted Hermione with questions since she found them a compartment on the Hogwarts express. The past few weeks hadn't been easy. Only a couple of days after the duelling event, Justin had been found petrified. Naturally, everybody had believed Harry to be the culprit. Well nearly everybody, as his friends still stuck by him. Harry had been more than a little flabbergasted when Luna walked up to him, right in front of everybody else in the Great Hall, and told him that she believed him, Hermione at her side. She hated Ron Weasley, but she shared Luna's trust that Harry wasn't behind these attacks. The other Ravenclaws hadn't appreciated her proclamation of faith, but this was old news. And now, they were on their way home. Luna would spend a couple of days with Hermione's family. She was quite fascinated to learn more about the Muggle way to celebrate Christmas. Her father had been invited for Boxing Day. He had accepted, happy to fulfil his daughter's wish. Unknown to both girls, Xenophilius Lovegood was eager to get to know Luna's first friend since the day she came back in tears from the Burrows. Her first letters from Hogwarts had transpired how unhappy she was, despite her attempt to hide it. Their tone had however changed drastically since Halloween, taking a heavy load from his mind and heart. The Grangers had also invited Alice Longbottom and Hermione hoped the festive atmosphere would improve her sad mood.

"Yes, Luna," Hermione smiled softly. "We'll have a tree, candles, presents, and even pudding," she added, remembering her friend's little addiction to sugar. Luckily, her mother had been more than willing to buy a couple of presents. Hopefully, Luna and her father would like them. "I think the only difference will be our yearly Church visit to celebrate the mass." Her parents weren't really avid church goers, but on Christmas, Easter and Whitsun it was family tradition to listen to Vicar Johannsen's preaching. She really liked his parables, stories and jokes – Vicar Johannsen was known for them – and hoped Luna would like them as well.

For a moment, Hermione felt bad at the thought of how the Creevey and Finch-Fletchley families would feel, with their sons petrified away from home. Perhaps she should write them a letter, wishing them best and assuring them that all would turn for the better. But would they appreciate it? She wasn't sure. It certainly couldn't hurt... Yes, a letter each it would be. She turned towards Luna again and proclaimed: "It will be wonderful."

.

 _ **First nation winter (Harry Evans)**_

.

The greyish brown squirrel put the teacups down on the table and started to pour them some tea. "Two lumps of sugar for Mum, please," Harry gently ordered, not noticing Remus's soft smile and Michiko's slightly shimmering eyes. The boy had started calling her Mum a year ago and it moved her every time he did so. Jenny grinned as the squirrel, eager to proceed with her tea, forgot about its long bushy tail and swished Michiko's cup aside. Only her Mum's incredible reflexes thwarted a hot-soaky mishap.

"I have to work on its coordination," Harry admitted.

"You think?" Jenny teased.

She was quite proud of Harry's accomplishment, proud and more than a little jealous. While she was far ahead of him when considering Adept abilities – and the gap would presumably only widen over the next years – she had only been able to call The Racoon to her side so far. According to her teachers helpful watchers, like Harry's little squirrel, would stay out of her grasp forever. As far as she understood, watchers were some kind of magical construct, creatures formed out of raw magic. Later Harry would also learn how to summon real spirits and ghosts.

"It's still quite an accomplishment, Harry," Michiko congratulated and Remus agreed proudly. "Your teacher is highly pleased with your progress."

Harry's frown turned into a smile at the praise. He watched the little spirit finish its duty and dismissed it. "I named him Jerry," he told his family. "Professor Peacott explained that while we will call quite different kind of watchers in the future, it is a good idea to concentrate on one watcher most of the time. It's like learning how to cook. You can try all kinds of dishes, be it a casserole, a stew or some kind of roast meat. Slowly, you'll get better at cooking it all. You will understand how it works. However, if you prepare one special dish each Sunday, its preparation will improve far quicker than the others. You'll learn to tweak it a bit, adding new spices or trying to cook it a bit differently. Slowly, it will turn into your very own composition. It won't be _a stew_ anymore but _Harry's stew_."

"And is it the same with watchers? That's why you call him Jerry instead of _Hey you_?"

"Yes," Harry nodded. "I use the same imagination, the same words and the same… emotion. I concentrate, knowing that I won't simply call any watcher, but I'll call Jerry, a friend who is willing to help me. I have to treat him well. It strengthens the bond between us. He'll grow stronger and more intelligent, and he will learn to do more complex things."

"I think I understand," Michiko said softly. "It's certainly an interesting concept. I'm eager to watch how Jerry evolves over time."

"Well done, Harry," Remus clapped him on the shoulder. "But tell me: why _Jerry_?" He knew the name could only come from _Tom and Jerry_ , a cartoon Harry liked to watch.

Harry blushed a little. "He's a friend. He's in a way a part of me. So, I wanted his name to be similar to mine. And I started his name with a 'J' because of Jenny, like her he will be my friend forever."

Jenny, fifteen-year-old tomboy and never at a loss for words, actually sniffled a bit. Luckily for the teenagers, Michiko reminded them of the tea. "It's growing cold," she lifted her own cup. It was one of her best Christmas feasts so far.

.

It turned out even better, when Remus wished her "Goodnight" a couple of hours later and, after a long moment of awkward silence and building up his courage, kissed her softly for the first time.

.

"Yeah, finally!" cried Jenny while she danced a little victory jig.

Harry rolled his eyes and weaved a silence spell on the door. _Girls are silly sometimes_ , he mused, wondering if he would be allowed to tease Remus about the kiss tomorrow morning. _No_ , he decided in the end _. I've waited for years for Remus to get his act together. I can wait a couple more days for the teasing to begin_. He sighed, feeling very content. _Happy Christmas, Remus and Michiko_.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – start of the new term (Harry Potter)**_

.

"Padma, do you know where Parvati is? I haven't seen her since the term started." Hermione had stopped the 2nd year claw, somewhat concerned about her former housemate. Had something gone wrong with the Polyjuice?

"Why do you care?" Padma narrowed her eyes. Seeing Parvati with cat ears and a tail had darkened her mood severely.

"We're…," Hermione hesitated. She wanted to say friends but were they still?

Padma eyes were small slits now: "yes?"

"Kind of friends," Hermione sighed.

"Friends? She never told me." Padma's eyed her suspiciously. "You don't want to mock her, do you?"

"W…what? Why would I want to mock her? About what?"

Padma silently watched her for a moment, relaxing slightly. "You really don't know about her little mishap?"

"What mishap?" Hermione gasped. "It wasn't about the Poly… I mean… err."

"You know about the Polyjuice?" Padma clenched her fists.

"Yes?" Her voice was more than a little nervous now. Padma was always calm and controlled, never this angry.

"And how exactly did you know about it?" Her voice was too calm. It should have warned Hermione.

"I… err."

"Hermione helped her with the brewing," Luna explained helpfully, without looking up from her Quibbler.

"Luna," Hermione hissed. Before she knew what happened, she felt Padma's clenched fist blackening her left eye. She was too shocked to do anything as Padma smacked her another one. The enraged girl hesitated for a moment before finishing with a third punch for good measure.

"Ouch!" Hermione staggered back. "Luna, a little help per chance?"

"Nope," Luna shook her head, only now looking up. "You deserved this."

"I deserved this?" Hermione gasped, while Padma looked quite smug and far calmer now, despite her fist hurting like hell.

"Yes," Luna happily nodded, "for being stupid and not saying no to 'Vati. You knew from the start that Weasley's idea was a big heap of codswallop. Being helpful is one thing. But if Padma's sister, after months of behaving like a bitch to you, only wanted to be your friend again so you could help her with Potions, then she didn't deserve to be your friend from the start."

All three girls got very serious, and a little sad. Padma even looked ashamed of her sister's behaviour. Hermione, feeling her eye swelling close already, smiled wistfully. "She was my friend once, Luna. Apart from Percy, she was the only Gryffindor writing to me last year. Don't tell me you wouldn't have done the same if Ginny had extended her hand in friendship to you."

It was a low blow, and Hermione realized it immediately. Ginny's betrayal had hurt the blond girl deeply. The weekly changes had continued for a while. One day she greeted Luna like an old friend, only to sneer the next. After a while Luna had started to ignore her to stop the pain. She fought her tears now, and Hermione moved forward to hug her friend. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have mentioned her."

Luna sniffled, returning the hug. "No, you're right. I would have tried anything to get her back for real."

"Ron Weasley is a real donkey's arse," Hermione joked to lift Luna's mood. She had no idea about the black book's influence and simply guessed that it was the influence of Ron and the Twins that forced the girl to behave this inconsistently.

"Yes, he is, and an ugly one to boot" Luna agreed with a hint of a smile. She brandished her wand. "Now let's do something about that eye of yours."

.

Over the next weeks, Hermione visited Cat-Parvati a couple of times. It didn't get her former friend back, as Ron continued to behave like a toddler around them, trying to chase her off, and Lavender followed his lead. Due to her status as Parvati's most important friend, it prohibited any real friendship between the girls. However, Hermione and Luna got a new friend in Padma, as the Claw appreciated greatly Hermione's attempts.

Penelope Clearwater, Percy's girlfriend and sixth year prefect, watched the evolving friendship with satisfaction. Perhaps there was still some hope for her house.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – February 1993**_

.

 _It's nearly time._ The dreadful words crossed her troubled mind.

She watched her brothers from afar. They were speaking in hushed voices, glancing towards the Ravenclaw table from time to time. George couldn't hide his broken nose, coming from an infuriated Hermione Granger who had hit him with a heavy juice jug. He hadn't even been the one who pranked Granger's orange beast, but he hadn't been fast enough to deny it. Laughing about it like it was fun to watch the cat vomit its tiny heart out, had been the last straw. Ron's smug face had been enough to prove his guilt. He was, she assumed, equally smug about playing a successful prank and having the Twins feel the repercussions in his stead. Granger got detention for her vicious assault. Even the reason for her outburst hadn't stopped Professor McGonagall from sentencing her to a weekend of hard labour. Not that it turned out so hard. According to rumours, Argus Filch, the wicked caretaker of Hogwarts, had a soft spot for the girl and her orange menace.

 _A few days later…_

She shivered in a mix of fear and disgust: fear of what would soon happen, and disgust because she hated what she was forced to do. It had started so nice. Tom had been her first true friend. She could tell him everything, write all those things that troubled her heart in that small black book: How her brothers neglected her; how she was forced to chase away Luna – Luna, her former friend; Luna, who did her best not to openly cry. After a while everything changed. There were dreams. About blood, dark chambers and narrow corridors filled with hissing and wicked-looking jaws. And then there was real blood. More than once she woke up feeling utterly exhausted, only to find traces of having been outdoors without knowing neither when or how. There were earth traces, leaves and small twigs. She even found chicken feathers in her robes and blood on her shoes. It frightened her immensely.

She asked Tom. He beat about the bush.

She demanded answers. Tom mocked her.

She threw the book away – only to have it reappear in Potter's hands a few days later.

It operated in her favour that only the entrance to the girls' dorm was protected from adventurous boys, and not the other way round. It had been child's play to sneak into his room and steal the book back. Far too late she wondered why she had done such a thing in the first place. She should have been happy to get rid of it. Instead, it was back in her hands, Tom's influence on her actions and thoughts even stronger than ever.

Nowadays it was impossible for her not to have her black book lying around. She just had to peek into her bag three times per lesson to check the book was still there. Her mind was foggy, the memories of the past few days hazy. She knew she had been stalking around looking for something for Tom. No place had been safe from her prying eyes. There had been a room on the seventh floor, one she had never seen or heard about before. It had been cramped with all kind of rubbish, far worse than even her dad's tinkering shack. The discovery of some medium-sized chest made Tom ecstatic. Opening it and staring at the content something glittered, an incredible evil aura surrounding it. It was the last time her mind controlled her own body.

Going to Hogwarts had been like a dream come true. But in the first month it had turned into a nightmare. And now she would never wake up from that nightmare, forever imprisoned in her own body – until Tom didn't need her body anymore. She was like a by-stander, with Tom in the driving seat. Only, she had no way to stop the ride, no chance to get out.

She could only close her eyes and scream, silently.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Mid March**_

.

Hermione frowned watching how Luna stopped for the second time, looking around like searching for something. It was not an unusual behaviour for her friend, neither the looking around nor the apparent non-existence of whatever she was seeking. This time, however, was different. She was far more serious than usual. Luna even appeared to be a little frightened. Impossible! Luna was never frightened, not around bullies, or around Hagrid's creatures. Hermione put an arm around her small frame and hugged her. Luna loved hugs as much as Hermione did. To Hermione's relief it worked. Luna relaxed a little and there even was a hint of a smile.

"Did you hear it?" Luna asked.

Hermione halted, listened into the darkness. They were on their way to an abandoned classroom to continue their training. The day before, there had been a quarrel with Stephen Cornfoot, one of Padma's year mates and one of the few boys still harassing Luna. It escalated fast from sneered curses into screaming and yelling. She never learned the row's reason, but assumed it had something to do with Hagrid, Hermione or Crookshanks. Luna only got this angry when defending her friends, as Malfoy had painfully learned already. In the end, wands were drawn and jinxes exchanged. Cornfoot lost, but Hermione expected retaliation from the haughty boy. This meant she had to step up Luna's training. While Luna was a very difficult opponent – her strange mind made her unpredictable and she had a broad knowledge of some very obscure spells – she rarely used really aggressive spells.

"No, I don't hear anything, sorry."

"There is something though," Luna looked around again. "but I don't know where. It's as if there's a voice behind the walls."

"What does it say?" Hermione didn't even consider not believing her friend.

If Luna said there was something, then something was there. Over the past months she had even started to believe in her creatures. Perhaps there were indeed some creatures most people were unable to see. She knew about Thestrals and hoped she would never be able to see them like Luna did because of her mother's death. Perhaps it was only Luna's manner of describing something completely different, like those tribes of the past that had given names and faces to natural forces. Irrespective of the exact explanation, Luna believed in those creatures and Hermione believed in Luna. In the end, it simply came to that. And now, Luna heard something, Luna and only Luna.

"I don't understand the words, it's more like hissing. It makes me afraid."

"I'm here to protect you, sister of mine" Hermione assured her.

"I know," Luna leant into her hug, a pleased sigh escaping her lips.

.

 _ **One week later**_

It went downhill incredibly fast from there. On Sunday morning they had cuddled in bed, thinking about what to do over the Easter break. After Lunch they had parted ways. While most students watched the Quidditch game, Luna had gone to visit the Thestrals. Hermione went to the library instead. She had a hunch about the source of Luna's "voice behind the wall", and linked it with the attacks.

When twilight came around, Luna could already be found in the hospital sitting beside Hermione's bed. She was unable to stop her tears despite Madam Pomfrey's calming draughts. Alice Longbottom stayed with her and Percy, the inconsolable older Gryffindor watching over Penelope, petrified as well. He hadn't been there to protect her and felt incredible guilty. In the end, Luna's father Xenophilius had to pry her away from Hermione's bed, like Arthur did for his son.

The next days were filled with mocking Slytherins and raging students from the other houses. Luna shattered a couple of bones in Draco Malfoy's body with a strong bout of accidental magic that put the fear of God into Cho Chang and her clique. He had mocked Hermione's fate, saying something about "getting what she deserved at last", only to have an oaken table flung him into the next wall only seconds later. Luna got detention and a package with honey dukes chocolate from an unknown sender – Greg as she learned years later. Hagrid was arrested, the Ministry dumbasses convinced he was behind the attacks. He only was detained in the Ministry holding cells instead of being carried away to Azkaban – instantly and without a trial –, because the Quibbler immediately started a campaign in his favour. A couple of minor, local newspapers supported him too, but the Daily Prophet still defended the Minister's rash course of action.

It was exactly one week later that two conversations that would strongly influence Hogwarts occurred, for the better or the worse.

.

 _ **Hospital Wing**_

Percy didn't look up as someone entered the room. He was sitting at Penelope's side, reading something to her from a letter her parents sent. Having done the same already with his school notes, he intended to brush her hair for a while after the letter was finished. Perhaps it was his imagination, but it looked to him that Penelope liked when he did so. He only felt a bit sad Penny's parents weren't able to visit her on their own.

"How is she doing?"

Percy flinched at the unknown voice. Looking around, he had expected to see Luna, Padma or some other Ravenclaw, but certainly not a Slytherin. He frowned. "You're that Goyle boy, aren't you?"

"Yes," Goyle nodded, glancing towards the entrance like fearing someone would notice his visit.

"What are you doing here?" Percy warily asked. If this Slytherin came to prank the helpless victims, he would pay for it. Only: the boy didn't look like getting ready to prank anyone. He looked afraid, perhaps even terrified of being here. He mumbled something Percy didn't get. "What?"

"Hermione is my friend." He trembled a little. Percy's eyes widened, surprised by the words. Shocked actually. There was no doubt about the boy sounding deathly serious. The use of her first name alone was surprising. Goyle slowly walked towards Hermione's bed, moved like he wanted to touch her hand only to hesitate. "I hate seeing her like this." There was pain in his voice. Percy didn't share his brothers' strong prejudice towards Slytherins, but he was still wary of them. This boy however was different.

"I never knew," he said with a soft voice.

"We had to hide it," Greg whispered, "me more than her." Percy understood. It would make Hermione's life even more difficult if others knew about this unusual friendship. Ron especially would have had a field day. For Goyle it certainly would be even worse.

"She'll be okay again," Percy tried to comfort him. "As soon as the Mandrake roots get ready, Professor Snape will brew the antidote."

"But it will be months until then," Goyle hissed angrily. "She'll loose months of her life – again." Percy listened, thinking about what had happened 18 months ago. After a moment of silence Greg added. "I noticed her absence, you know."

Percy blinked. "What?"

Goyle sniffled. "On Halloween first year," he explained. "I noticed her absence. I wanted to tell someone, to get help. I didn't dare to go against my housemates. I was a coward."

Percy was angry to hear this. He had been blaming himself for not noticing her absence earlier and now this boy told him…

"I wrote to Hermione about it," Goyle continued, not giving Percy a chance to react. "and she forgave me." He looked up. "She nearly died because of me, and she forgave me. How could she do that?"

"I don't know," Percy shrugged helplessly, knowing that he would have reacted differently. "It's the way she is."

"Yeah," Goyle smiled wistfully. He sat down and grabbed her hand. "It's the way she is."

.

The next day two things happened, both started by a group of prefects from three houses.

First, they went to Professor McGonagall, asking for – no, more forcedly demanding – the distribution of the so-called "Muggle amulets" to the victims' parents. Percy shoved a copy of article 1784, in Hogwart's school regulations, into the professor's stunned face: " _bypassing the Muggle repelling wards of Hogwarts in cases of emergency_ ". He didn't tell her he only knew about that obscure article because of Greg Goyle. Hermione had told him about former days when parents would visit the school, special amulets allowing them to see more than a derelict ruin, and Greg had remembered. Knowing about the articles existence had allowed him to find the regulation a couple of hours later, half a dozen other prefects eagerly assisting him with the search.

Second, the same group of prefects started a collection. Percy had to admit: Greg was right about it being intolerable to wait weeks and months until the antidote was ready. Penelope would be heartbroken and Hermione certainly didn't deserve a repeat of her first year. Padma's parents had some contacts and needed only two days to find a trader, willing to sell the necessary Mandrakes. 120 galleons each – around 3,000 pounds – was a lot of money, but it certainly was worth it. Susan got her Aunt Amelia Bones to take care of the regulations, easing the way for the delivery. Madam Sprout, the one professor among the four house heads Percy trusted the most, even allowed both girls to floo to their families to convince them to help. All in all, they needed 630 galleons for the four students, one ghost and one cat. The students gathered 260 out of those. The ghosts of Hogwarts somehow paid for Headless Nick's treatment. The teachers offered to contribute another 100 galleons while Justin's parents came up for the rest, partially as a thank you for Hermione's Christmas card. It was a whirlwind of activity and only five days later a sneering but internally quite impressed Professor Snape started his brew.

For a few days, the spirits were high again… only to come crushing down the day Hermione woke up.

.

 _ **Somewhere in Hogwarts**_

He had a hell of a headache waking up. Draco wanted to touch his temples, only to find his arms bound to the sturdy if slightly battered chair he was sitting on. Blinking several times, he looked around. He was in some abandoned room, a thick cover of dust on the floor, the only door in sight being closed.

"Awake at last, I see."

Draco whirled around as much as his bindings allowed him. There was someone standing in the shadows, someone quite small, its face hidden by a cloak's hood. It sounded like a girl. "Who are you? Why have you bound me? Let me go. You'll pay for this." He tried to force his way free but the ropes were too strong.

"That was stupid, you know. To threaten me while you're bound. I wonder if you're really worth the trouble. And here I thought you were cleverer than your father."

The words stopped him cold. _Cleverer than your father_. Draco wanted to be just that. He had no idea how much time his captor spent riffling through his memories while he was unconscious. "What do you mean?"

"I'm in use of a servant," the girl said, her voice cold and haughty.

"Malfoys don't serve anybody. Others serve us," he declared cockily.

"Are you sure about that?" the girl mocked. "You mean to tell me your father never served anybody? Not a single master in his whole life?"

Draco paled. She couldn't be speaking about the Dark Lord, could she?

"The Dark Lord will return. The time of his arrival is near," the conviction in her voice made Draco quiver. "He will punish all traitors and reward the faithful."

Draco felt like fainting. Despite his usual behaviour, he was not stupid. His father and a couple of his friends like the fathers of Crabbe and Goyle had used the Imperious excuse to stay out of Azkaban. While it saved their hides then, it could be seen as betrayal. His father had often told him how he would return into their Lord's favour after his return. This slip of a girl seemed to think otherwise. "The Malfoys have always been faithful," he answered hoarsely.

"Not all of them," the girl thundered. "Your father chose the coward's path. He betrayed the Dark Lord." Granger had said the same. It hurt, hearing it for the second time.

"He only wanted…"

"He wanted to save his hide," the girl sneered. "If he was so loyal, Draco Malfoy, then tell me what has he done to bring the Dark Lord back? Has he even been looking for him? Preparing rituals to revive him? More than a decade and there are still Mudbloods besmirching the corridors of Hogwarts."

"And are you doing more to further our cause?" Draco sneered.

"That I am," was the smug answer.

If possible, Draco paled even more. "The attacks… you are the Heir of Slytherin."

"No," the girl rejected the idea. "I am not, but I serve the Heir. I'm the Dark Lord's most loyal servant right now. I'll prepare his return and I'll be sitting to his left. Tell me, Draco Malfoy," she stepped nearer, her face still hidden. "Do you want to be a part of this? Do you want to be the one sitting to his right?"

.

Tom was quite content with his progress. Carrot-and-stick had done the deed. To offer the boy a place of honour at his Master's table had been the carrot; threatening his mother, the one person he really loved, was the stick. Malfoy buckled to Tom demands, without even knowing the face of his host. The boy was malleable, Tom mused. Perhaps he would keep him around. He would decide about Malfoy's fate after he got his first job done. Tom needed a culprit for later. Draco had been quite eager about his victim's choice.

Perhaps, he should punish him for daring to risk his diary.

Or perhaps he should reward him. Because of Malfoy's deed he was on his way back to life, even if it was in such a weak form.

Perhaps, he would do both.

 _We will see, Draco Malfoy, we will see._

.

 _ **Hospital Wing – a couple of days later**_

.

Professor Snape needed six days to prepare the antidote. Six days Luna during which ran around in the hospital like a caged tiger. Not even her father had been able to drag her away from Hermione's side. How could she leave her friend, her sister? When Madam Pomfrey had attempted to evict them from the ward, Luna and Crookshanks had hissed at her in fury without moving one iota. She hadn't tried anything after that. Using the hospital lavatory if needed, sitting at Hermione's side or sleeping on the bed she had dragged over to Hermione's against Madam Pomfrey's wishes, she hadn't left the room even once. Professor McGonagall had tried to make her attend lessons, but Professor Flitwick had surprisingly put his foot down. He even organized for Luna to get notes of all missed lessons, more to occupy her mind than out of real need. Filius decidedly wanted to make up for his past mistakes.

Other students had been avid visitors of the petrified as well, with Percy the most recurrent one. When Professor McGonagall objected, speaking about his duties as a prefect and how important it was to be a shining example to others, he simply yanked off his prefect badge and shoved it into her hand. "Some things more important." McGonagall had been flabbergasted first, then infuriated. How dares this boy defy her so? The spat became wildly known because of a couple of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff visitors witnessing the heated exchange at the same moment. It got Percy much good will from both houses, and McGonagall the visit of two other House Heads, Professor Flitwick and Madam Sprout, who viciously defended him: "Everybody knows how important his badge is for Mister Weasley. How dare you make him choose between his dreams and his friendship? Get this back in order, and swiftly," Madam Sprout growled, "or else I'll find a way to get him resorted into my house and make him a Prefect myself." It was an empty threat, but it got the desired result.

A couple of days later, a surprisingly soft-spoken Professor Snape put a vial into Luna's hand. "You should be the one to wake her up."

"Thank you," Snape's eyes widened as he found himself getting hugged by the slip of a girl. She whirled around and hastened to Hermione's bed, only to hesitate.

"What are you waiting for?"

Luna looked up, turned around and pointed at the tiny bed where Mrs Norris lay, Argus Filch at its side. "Mrs Norris first." she decided.

"Don't you want to wake Hermione up?" Madam Pomfrey wondered.

"Oh, you know how much I want that." The pure emotion in her voice was heart-moving. "But she would be furious if Mrs Norris is still petrified, when she wakes up."

Professor Snape rolled his eyes, muttered something about stubborn girls being the death of him, and did as desired. Argus Filch watched the exchange without a word. He was completely stunned by Luna's words. He had always been the hated caretaker and nobody else liked Mrs Norris. Crookshanks jumped onto a sideboard and watched closely what Professor Snape was doing, glaring at him as if telling him to do it correctly or suffer the consequences…

Argus Filch wiped a few tears away and silently mouthed "thank you" in Luna's direction.

.

 _ **Some time later**_

"I'm sad to say that I happen to agree with your conclusions," Headmaster Dumbledore sighed.

Barely awake, Hermione demanded to see a few books from the library as well as to see the Headmaster. Both wishes accomplished, she wasted no time but hastily explained her research and what she figured out about the nature of the threat.

"A Basilisk?" Professor McGonagall gasped. She felt ill.

Professor Snape's reaction was calmer, but his face was still paler than ever. "It makes sense. The gaze didn't kill anybody because nobody saw into its eyes without some kind of protection. And Miss Granger's memories are additional proof. While a bit hazy, there is no doubt about her attacker being a Basilisk."

Not knowing about Headmaster Dumbledore's pensive, she had allowed the Professor to scan her memories via Legilimency. He had been surprised by her show of trust, aware of how much she disliked his (un)professional behaviour in classes. It had been a weird experience, and Hermione intended to learn more about mind arts. "Were you able to identify the human attacker as well?"

This bit of information had been especially troublesome. There had been a human near the Basilisk, hissing at the creature and apparently directing its attacks. "No, the memory is too hazy about that. Small, presumably no older than thirteen and slim of build," Snape listed.

"And the hissing?" Hermione wondered, glancing towards Luna. Her friend had heard the hissing as well without understanding it.

"Parseltongue I assume."

"So, it's really the heir of Slytherin?" McGonagall asked. Until now she had hoped for a different explanation.

"It's too early to say," Dumbledore reasoned while patting Hermione's hand. "Rest, my dear. We'll take care of the danger." The Professors left the ward, not without Flitwick telling Luna he expected her to attend lessons from next day onward again now that Hermione was better.

The adults barely out of sight, Luna jumped onto Hermione's bed and hugged her. "I have you back." She fully intended to never lose her again.

"I was always with you, sister" Hermione whispered back.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – next day**_

.

He walked towards the meeting point, careful not to attract attention from the Aurors patrolling the halls of Hogwarts. Now that the nature of the beast was known, Aurors had been sent to protect the students and search the castle. Not that they had any chance of success without a little assistance – assistance he actually intended to offer. Headmaster Dumbledore announced the premature departure of all students on the next day. He had to react fast. They needed closure, and a culprit. Talking about the culprit: the public support had been enough to get that blasted half-breed free again. Fifty years ago it had been Professor Dumbledore who came to his rescue. This time it was that ridiculous newspaper, blast it all!

Traipsing down the corridor, he thought about the books, scrolls and artefacts he "rescued" from the chamber of secrets. Soon enough, the chamber would be known to the Headmaster. It wouldn't do to leave those sanctified Slytherin heirlooms into his sticky Gryffindork hands. It hadn't been nearly as much as he had hoped for, but would still occupy his mind for a while, perhaps even allow him to partially compensate for all the knowledge he had lost. He hated his current condition. Not only was his mind bound to the body of a thirteen-year-old girl, but her small magical core severely limited his casting as stronger spells would weaken and damage his host body. There was a dire reduction of his knowledge as well. As the diary was his first Horcrux, it only encompassed the knowledge of his sixteen-year-old self, when Tom that was still at school. It was more than any NEWT student would ever learn at Hogwarts, but still only a fragment of his former knowledge.

He needed his other Horcruxes to absorb their knowledge and experience. However, it wasn't an easy feat. With his current limited knowledge, he simply had no idea how many Horcurxes had been created by his older self. In what order ? When? Where were they hidden and how protected were they? He then would have to create a ritual in order to use them to enhance his current abilities. As far as he knew, it would be best to combine it with the transfer of his soul into another body, an adult male, naturally. He was able to sense the existence of three other slivers of his soul, two of them within the borders of Hogwarts, and one elsewhere. The diadem he had already found, but the other one was hidden somewhere in this maze called Hogwarts and protected behind strong wards. He needed the next school year for preparations; he needed peace and solitude to continue this search. The summer months could be used to hunt down the third sliver. And then there was the matter of Scabbers. It had been easy to see through his cover. Scabbers was an Animagus. But who was he really? He was a Death Eater, this much he knew. Scabbers had a dark mark; he was able to sense it. He was not one of the first bunch, not one of those he marked back in his own school time fifty years ago. He had to wait for their return to the Burrow. There they would have a long talk. He grinned evilly.

A long careful look around – nobody was there as far as he noticed. He opened the door and stepped in, "Ginny's" face and voice hidden by an illusion. His little present was already waiting for him, the gift bearer being Draco Malfoy. With a cruel smirk he observed Theodore Nott, sitting on a chair not unlike the one he had used for Malfoy, struggling with the ropes. Even the glare promising pain and death was the same, only it lacked the confusion and fear Malfoy had shown. Obviously, Nott hadn't yet understood the gravity of the situation.

"Hello, Mister Nott," Tom greeted him with a sugary voice. "I hope you're as happy to see me as I am about your… visit."

"Let me go," Nott demanded, fruitlessly jerking at the ropes. "Who are you, bitch?"

Draco cuffed him, but Tom stopped his hand. "Tut-tut. That isn't necessary, I believe. We're among friends, are we not?"

"I'm not your friend," Nott hissed.

"You hurt me," he mocked. "We are indeed friends, Mister Nott. You're going to do me a great favour, and isn't that something friends do for each other?"

"Favour?" Nott gulped. "What favour?"

"Oh haven't I told you?" He pretended to be surprised. "Oh, silly me." Tom leant forward until "Ginny's" mouth nearly touched his ear. "You're going to die for me, Mister Nott."

.

Tom had parted ways with Malfoy and was on his way back to the Gryffindor tower. An oath had secured his silence; a couple of lesser books from his newfound stash would ensure his eagerness. He recognized that glint in Malfoy's eyes, had seen it often enough back in the day. Big dreams and little talent, they create a superb breeding ground for someone like him. Malfoy would return next year, eager to learn more, to try out what little hexes he had learnt over summer. Perhaps Tom would expand his circle next fall and include Malfoy's little friends, or perhaps some of the elder ones.

He closed the door behind him, but not completely. A shred of Nott's robes would leave it opened; it would be enough to allow the Aurors searching Hogwarts for clues to find the hidden passage. They'll discover the chamber with a widely awake Basilisk and a dead student, accidentally killed by the beast he had unsuccessfully tried to control. And the notes - found in his coat and planted there by a sufficiently helpful Draco Malfoy - would tell them how much he had tried. Tom remembered Draco's grandfather, Abraxas Malfoy. He had been the same: big dreams but mediocre in power and talent, far more interested in silly games and the pureblood agenda than actual learning.

A last look. He was content. This would do. The ministry would have their culprit. The Basilisk would, regretfully, be killed. He was impractical anyway. Tom had plans of creating something smaller, more efficient, like some kind of cobra familiar. But those were plans for later. Now he had to return to the tower and wait for the "happy news" to be announced. Tomorrow "Ginny" would return home.

Ginny screamed with all her might: _Someone help me. Please_.

But nobody heard her apart from an amused Tom.

.

 _ **Hogwarts Express**_

.

"I'll miss you, little sister," Hermione sighed, hugging Luna as if letting her go would get her killed.

"Me as well, big sister" Luna responded, her hug not a jota weaker.

"You'll see each other soon enough," Padma commented, rolling her eyes.

"Three weeks can feel like a lifetime," Penelope Clearwater morosely commented, keeping close to a softly smiling Percy Weasley. They would be separated as well for a while: her parents had plans for the summer and the Weasleys intending to visit Bill in Egypt.

"Huha," Padma shuddered, "too much sugary sweetness over there."

"I won't see Percy until September," whined Penelope. "And don't you dare start feeling guilty about accompanying your family to Egypt, Percy. I know how much you like the idea of spending a few days with your favourite brother."

Percy smiled softly and nodded slowly. Of all his brethren, only Bill understood his eagerness for learning, his determination and his dreams. His father's only dream had been to build his family. Charlie was the same with his dragons and the twins with their pranks. Percy, however, believed in hard work and diligence, something only Bill really appreciated. He had been the one who gave Percy a head start with his old notes of Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. He was also the one exchanging letters with Percy when he encountered some bit of obscure knowledge he stumbled upon or some new spell he had learned. Yes, he would miss Penny, but he would make the best out of his time with Bill. Visits from him were rare enough.

"I call you when father and I return from our expedition," Luna promised.

"I will hold you to that," Hermione mock-glared.

Actually, she was a bit afraid about returning home. Her parents hadn't been happy about the Basilisk incident. Only the opportunity to visit her at the hospital wing and Hermione's swift recovery had stopped them from forcing their daughter to drop out of school – that and her close friendship with Luna. Her parents liked Luna and her father as well, weird as he may be. They whole-heartedly supported their friendship, saw how much it had changed Hermione in a positive way. She had been tense and full fear and trepidation on her return to Hogwarts ten months ago. She was more relaxed now, something even the Basilisk hadn't been able to change. She was smiling again and actually wanted to live – really live, not only learn. Her parents were immensely thankful to Luna for implementing this change.

Their friendship had changed Luna as well, but only her father knew her well enough to notice. She was securer in her own abilities. While she had never hidden her unusual opinions, her special senses and her individual way of life, only now with Hermione's support had she started to believe in a life filled with friendship rather than loneliness. Slowly, she had started to open up. First to Hermione, now to Padma and Penelope as well. One day, Xeno Lovegood hoped, she would find her special one as well. And Hermione would be at her side, giving the poor sod the "older sister" speech and giving him the fear of god should he dare to hurt his little flower.

Both girls had been lonely in their past life, but not anymore. Never again.

.

"You have to be more careful," Abigail Goyle admonished her son. She had caught him giving a small wave to those girls. The little Lovegood was acceptable. Despite her father being an infamous storyteller, she came from a long line of purebloods at least. But that little Muggleborn… Granger something. She had heard about her run-in with that Basilisk. Later, she would grill her son about the matter and Merlin help him if he had tried something heroically stupid. It was bad enough he had to spend so much time around that worthless Malfoy scum. His father demanded it and her little Greg had to obey – for now.

Greg nodded, blushing because his mother caught him waving farewell. Luckily, it had been her and not his father. Abigail Goyle, while not exactly a fan of Muggleborn, at least tolerated them. Perhaps he could drop a hint or two about Hermione's diligence. Such a trait impressed his mother far more than anything else, even more than intellect and talent. It was the one thing that allowed him to always stay on her good side. He wasn't a fast learner, or a powerful wizard. But he was willing to write an assignment three times until it was the best he could accomplish. His notes weren't the best, but he would still work his ass off. Hermione was the same, and Abigail would appreciate it – or so he hoped at least.

"You should tell her to send her letters to me," his mother continued as if speaking about the weather. Greg looked like a deer caught by the headlights. "Your father won't examine my post." _Unlike yours_.

Greg gulped. "Sounds like a good idea. Thank you, mother."

"You're welcome." She wasn't too happy about this friendship, but she would do her best to keep her son happy and healthy, without bruises and broken bones. He deserved it.

.

 _ **The Burrow**_

.

This threw a spanner into the works, certainly. Tom had hoped to use the summer months for planning, studying and solving three mysteries, namely Scabbers, Potter and the hidden soul sliver. But now, he was on his way to Egypt. He would never be alone. Scabbers would be left at the Burrows. And there was no chance of reading Slytherin's books with a curse breaker around.

 _Blast it all!_

They would leave in a few days and return only one week before school. At least, he would still be around that false Harry Potter. And false he was, Tom could see it in his eyes – quite literally. According to the rumours, his older self tried to kill him a decade ago. It somehow backfired and ripped him apart, forcing him to return like this. However, it somehow didn't add up. There should have been something about Potter, a feeling of a bond, a residue of his magic. But there was nothing. Potter was a simple boy with nothing special about his magic or soul. Yes, there was a slight chance of him being mistaken, but he doubted it. He would therefore watch the boy closely, very closely.

 _Don't you dare_ , Ginny screamed, desperately trying to free herself. It was hopeless. She could only watch and hope for the best. While she didn't share her mother's dreams, Ginny had always seen Harry as her brother, perhaps even more so than Ron and the Twins. And what did Tom mean with him not being the real Harry Potter? _Please don't hurt him_ , Ginny sobbed. _Please go away and leave us alone_.

 _Never, you stupid girl_ , Tom smirked. _Not until your death_.

And Ginny wailed in despair.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Headmaster's Office**_

.

The past year had been a string of disappointments, there was no sugar-coating it. He hadn't expected such a threat to happen and was still unsure the real culprit had been found. The Ministry was content and, surprisingly, the Board of Governors as well. The Basilisk had not been killed, to his endless relief. At creature this old, apparently created by Slytherin himself to protect the school – it would have burdened his conscience to destroy such a living miracle. Luckily, Croaker, his friend from the Department of Mysteries, had been able to put the Basilisk into a winter sleep. He would use the next few weeks, while Hogwarts would be mostly empty, to stabilize its condition until a long-term solution could be found. There was already talk about finding some deserted island and turning it into a highly protected reserve.

Yes, the creature responsible for the petrifications had been found, but what about the one behind the attacks? The evidence against Theodore Nott had been damning. Naturally, none of it had been made public, as Nott senior had ascertained. However, Albus had his doubts about the boy working on his own. Even Severus, the one professor who had known the boy the best, had been flabbergasted to learn about the boy's part in the events of the past year. Never before had there been a single sign of the boy being this vicious and hateful. No, Albus Dumbledore was quite certain that someone else had been the mastermind behind the attacks. But who? Draco Malfoy came to mind. However, while young Malfoy certainly had the evil streak to start such a thing, he didn't possess the patience and skill for such a plan. No, there had to be someone else, supposedly an older Slytherin student. He had to talk about it with Severus.

The other disappointment had been the lack of heroics from young Harry. Albus had hoped for the boy to gather his friends and solve the puzzle. Yes, there had been a few attempts, the Polyjuice Potion one certainly was most impressive. However, Harry had shown a regretful lack of self-initiative. He mostly depended on young Ron's ideas and left the planning to Parvati Patil. It was a friendship Albus was quite unhappy about, actually. The Patils had Indian roots, something that grated on the nerves of many English purebloods. Irrespective of how old the family, someone like Malfoy or Nott, or even Greys like Amos Diggory would never accept a Potter-Patil relationship. He had hoped for Ginny Weasley to take over that spot, but so far she had kept her distance from Potter and, as far as he knew, the rest of her family. Perhaps, Albus mused, I should speak with Ron about his sister; ask him to include her more into their little group.

No, Harry Potter wasn't the hero he had hoped for. He was too soft, too compassionate. Despite Ron's best attempts, what Harry loved most where plants and animals. He hated flying and any kind of attention. Albus sighed. There was no way to deny it: his biological heritage was too strong. Despite his appearance as a younger James Potter, inwardly he was 100 percent a Longbottom.

Not for the first time, Albus wondered: _where are you, Harry Potter_?

.

 _ **A/N**_

 _Please remember: I use an exchange ratio of 1 galleon equals 25 pounds in my stories._

 _About Scabbers: remember, this is 16y Tom. He never met Peter Pettigrew._

 _Tom's status summer 1993: he has full control of Ginny's body. His magic is limited because of Ginny's small core. His knowledge is limited because he is more or less a 16-year-old teenager. Ginny's mind is still there, but more like an observer, unable to do anything._


	7. Chapter 7 Prisoner of Azkaban (93-94)– 1

_**A/N**_

 _I'll write "Voldemort" sometime, meaning the older self of Tom, but for now I am using "she/her" to remind you that it is Tom's soul-sliver within a female body._

 **.**

 **The Prisoner of Azkaban – Part 1**

.

 _ **British Columbia – summer 1993 (Harry Evans)**_

.

Jerry the Squirrel Watcher took the Natsume* and the bamboo spoon. He opened the Natsume with his tiny paws, putting down the lid to the right – a small error thanks to his tiny size – and started to spoon a portion of Matcha into the cup. Pouring a bit of hot water from the iron kettle called Kama he used the bamboo brush to stir the tea before offering the cup to Michiko, the main guest to this little tea ceremony. Harry watched Jerry's actions closely. He wasn't allowed to intervene, not even with words or gestures – mental commands only.

"He's doing well," Jenny whispered. Remus nodded with a small smile. Michiko had taught him well. Harry had learned the tea ceremony from Michiko then he taught the difficult steps in turn to his tiny friend. Jerry had become a well-known sight in the family home, and while Remus knew about its "construct nature", he had also noticed a couple of quirks that betrayed an intelligence and a personality of its own. Paul had explained it away as some kind of magical echo of Harry's mind. It was an important exam and Harry had chosen something difficult to show his expertise with the Summoning skill. Most of his classmates were happy to keep it with simple with fetch and delivery duties. One had his little ape watcher juggle a number of tennis balls. But this ceremony needed experience, a strong connection to his watcher and a level of patience rarely present in teenagers. Not that Remus assumed there were many twelve-your-old boys around with Harry's intrinsic knowledge of the Usucha tea ceremony. _Lily would have been so proud._

The ceremony was nearing its end, and according to the content faces it had been flawless. It was the second of overall three exams Harry had to pass in the Summoning class. The first had been the calling of The Wolf. Remus expected the watcher exam to get him his second A+. According to Paul there were stronger Summoners, but Harry showed an unusual intuition and charisma in his dealings with all kind of spirits. He was a _Spirit Whisperer_ and actually hated to enforce his will like others often tried, with Charm and Force being the two most widespread kinds of dealing with spirits. It was one of many reasons Michiko and Jenny adored the boy so much.

"Well done, Harry," Jenny congratulated her brother, hugging him.

He accepted gracefully, like she did two weeks ago. It had been her magical dance exam then and more than a little impressive. Remus still wondered about some of her moves and how she had been able to execute them without some serious injuries. While her weak connection to the Shamanistic Magic would stop her from becoming a lead dancer among the Kutenais, her "Dance of the Crane" had been formidable enough to get her a standing ovation from the audience, a discernible nod from Master Azuke – Headmaster from Michiko's Japanese Academy –, and the highest mark since 1962. Michiko had been grinning for three days straight, partially because Jenny got a full stipend offer from Headmaster Azuke the next day. Naturally, she had to finish her Senior High exam first, but in two years, if nothing changed, she would visit Michiko's old academy back in Japan.

Remus grinned broadly. Yes, his small family was doing rather well. Hopefully, next year would be the same.

.

 _ **The Rookery**_

.

"Ginny still not speaking with you?"

Luna looked up from her book. It belonged to Hermione, describing all kind of mythical creatures known to Muggles. She had been thinking about which of them were real or at least inspired by magical creatures. She sighed. "No, she's still ignoring me. For a while…" she pondered, "it really looked like she wanted to be my friend again. She was nice, or at least polite to me and to Mione as well. And right the next day she was a real bitch again."

"Language," Xeno scolded but his heart wasn't into it.

"She really was, Dad. Without any reason. At least none I know about."

"Perhaps it was her brother again, this Donald."

"Ronald," Luna growled. She hated the boy, perhaps even more now because of what he had done to Hermione.

"Yes, Ronald," Xeno nodded. "It's difficult to go against your older brother, I think. You have to give her time."

"I know, I really would like to have her as a friend again. But I won't run after her anymore."

"You don't have to, little flower."

And Luna agreed. She had other friends now. She didn't need the traitorous redhead anymore.

.

 _ **Egypt – July 1993 (Harry Potter)**_

.

It was incredibly hot. Even cooling charms could only go so far. "Ginny" felt like melting under the afternoon sun. Not for the first time Tom wondered if he should have played dead opossum, pretended to be ill and stayed at home. His host's family was disgustingly happy. And so loud. And so clingy. At least he had been able to sneak away a couple of times to buy a few things. It was weird running around in the body of a teenage girl. Weird and often confusing as the pubescent body's signals interfered with his thoughts. However, sometimes it was helpful as well to look like a pretty girl. Nobody would miss the stupid tourist he had lured away using "her" maturing teenager charms. A lonely alley, a sharp knife and a welcome result: the world was rid of another paedophile and he had enough money for a couple of shopping sprees. Egypt was rich in old tomes, forbidden scrolls and unusual ingredients. Nobody cared about his appearance as everybody assumed the girl to be either polyjuiced or some kind of Vampire locked in a teenager's body.

For a moment his thoughts went back to the Burrow and his small talk with Peter Pettigrew. It had been really enlightening.

.

 _ **Burrow – two weeks earlier**_

" _So he's not the real Harry Potter."_

" _No, he isn't," Pettigrew confirmed. The pitiful man cowered in fear, eager to prove his worth. A round of Crucio had convinced him not to mess with him despite his current condition; that and him using his dark mark against him._

" _The real Harry Potter has green eyes like his mother. This one has James' eyes." Tom pondered that titbit of information. So someone had kind of "cloned" James Potter and introduced the boy as the boy-who-lived. The title really grated on his nerves. It reminded him of his older self's mistakes. Voldemort had fallen for a trap, presumably some kind of blood ward installed to protect the boy. According to the things Pettigrew told him about the Potters, he assumed the mother came up with that nefarious plan. A Muggleborn had beaten him. That was utterly unacceptable._

" _Do you know who is responsible for this charade?"_

" _I could only guess," Pettigrew whined._

 _Tom narrowed his eyes. They had the same guess – Dumbledore._

" _Any hint about the fate of the real boy?" Perhaps he had died as well back then on Halloween, Tom mused, and Potter's body vanished like his own._

" _He survived," Pettigrew crushed that hope. "Hagrid once told the Weasley Twins how he rescued the boy from the ruined Potter house and brought him to…" He fumbled. "Brought him to…"_

" _You can't remember," Tom guessed._

" _No," Pettigrew shook his head. "Fidelius?" He wondered._

 _Tom didn't answer. It wasn't important anymore. The pretend boy had lived with the Weasley for years. Something happened back then, something strange and - as far as he assumed – against Dumbledore's plans. Someone had abducted the real boy. Any follower of his would have blared out such a success. So, Tom assumed, it had been a friend of the family, perhaps unsatisfied with how Dumbledore handled the matter. Pettigrew had suggested the Werewolf. Apparently they had been four friends: Potter was dead, Pettigrew a traitor, Black in Azkaban and Lupin just vanished. Tom had his doubts about that explanation however. According to Pettigrew's knowledge Lupin had been a top student, but not on a level that allowed him to hoodwink someone like Dumbledore. Irritable as the man was, he was no slouch._

 _._

 **Egypt**

There was someone else, some other player in this little game. He only had to figure him out. "Ginny" would pretend to be Harry's friend. There had already been a change in Ron's behaviour. Ginny's brother had tried to include her more into the boys' activities. Tom would allow this to happen, making "her mother" happy as well. Perhaps the boy knew something. And if not, a friendship with him would bring him closer to Dumbledore.

 _I'll solve this riddle. You won't hide the truth forever, Albus Dumbledore._

.

 _ **The Burrow – same time**_

.

His master wouldn't be happy. Pettigrew flinched as he thought about how his master would react to the disappointing news. He had used the Weasleys' absence to rummage through the house, looking for any clues about the false Harry's real nature or the disappearance of the real one. He remembered quite well the day Molly and Arthur Weasley came back from a meeting with a three-year-old Harry hiding behind them. He had shown all signs of abuse. "Harry" had been too small and too thin to have been reared in a healthy manner. He flinched at every loud word. He recoiled at every hasty gesture as if he expected to get hit. The Weasley had some long talks, especially with the Twins. It slowly got better. And Ron Weasley assumed the role of the big brother.

Pettigrew knew that there was no real friendship between the boys. Ron apparently didn't even like Harry all that much. They were too different. Ron was boisterous, loud and brash. He acted without thinking, spoke without reflection. More than once he offended someone with imprudent words. Harry on the other hand lacked in self-confidence, was far calmer and hated to cause any pain. He didn't like attention and craved for acceptance. Actually, the boys reminded Pettigrew very much of himself and the Black/Potter duo back in their youth. He had allowed those two to guide the quartet's actions. Lupin had been the silent follower, unwilling to disagree with his only close friends. And Pettigrew had been the sycophant, happy about every praise he got.

Turning fifteen, he had been grown up enough to realize how unhealthy their friendship was, how much it influenced him. Black and Potter had been like brothers, far closer to each other than to Lupin or him. They would never prefer him over each other. This insight had pushed him on the road of hate and loathing. It made him turn to others in secrecy. Avery and McNair hadn't been friends either, but at least they had never pretended to be. They had been allies, offering him things in exchange for his help. It wasn't pity like with Potter. It was a deal. He got money and influence. They got information and someone close enough to stab Potter in the back if the need arose.

Halloween 1991 should have become a Victory Day, not only of his master but of Pettigrew as well. In his last moments, Potter must have realized Pettigrew's betrayal, realized his own short-sightedness and the depth of Peter's deviousness. Weak, dumb Pettigrew had outlived the master prankster, beaten by his own masterstroke to switch secret keeper. He died in the knowledge of getting beaten by his "old friend". Yes, without Lily's contingency plan – and he had no doubt she had been behind the blood ward – it would have been his day. Instead, his master vanished. The other Death Eaters turned against him, some of them assuming he had been a part of some wicked plan to murder the Master. As if he would ever do such a thing! He was too much of a coward. However, they hadn't been convinced and he had to hide. Luckily it ended a few weeks later, with Bellatrix in Azkaban and many others returning to their former life. Pettigrew had stayed in hiding, safe if bored, planning for the day he was sure to come – the day of his master's return.

Pettigrew made a last sweep through the house. There still was nothing. Apparently the Weasleys had no idea about the fate of the real Potter. They probably didn't even know about the exchange. This could be useful later. Perhaps it allowed his master to turn them against Dumbledore. Exposing the scheme would seriously hurt his reputation. However, first they had to find some proof.

Hopefully his master would be more successful.

.

 _ **Coast of Southern England – end of August**_

.

When they arrived, Tom felt slightly ill. Pettigrew had to perform the Apparition, as Ginny's small core didn't allow the girl to execute it without damage. Oh, how he hated this condition. But he had to be patient. Voldemort's last demise – the one that happened a year ago when an older sliver of his soul tried to regain a physical body – had been caused by impatience and falling into a trap. Pettigrew hadn't known about the concrete nature of the trap - the mirror - but it had obviously been meant to incarcerate that sliver of his soul. Tom was able to feel it. It was hidden at Hogwarts, and he intended to continue his search next month.

Today however, he followed a different path. Tom remembered the coast quite well. The orphanage had organized an excursion to this cave. Little Tom had liked it and already planned to use it in the future. Tom was quite certain that his older self would have made good use of this hideout, if not for stashing away one of his soul slivers then to use it as storage for emergencies. A couple of minutes later, they arrived at the cave's entrance in brooms. Tom smirked as he noticed the smell of a blood ward – his blood ward. He had been right coming here.

"Your arm," he demanded.

Pettigrew obeyed without hesitation. A few drops of blood and they were able to enter. He would restore the ward when they left. It was a big cave, mostly dark, and with an air of death hovering over the place. A small boat offered to get them onto a small island, an ever-burning flame illuminating his target: a deep bowl, perhaps one foot across and six inches high. The blood ward hadn't been the only defence, however. There was something in the water – Inferi. Tom knew that she had to be careful. While they would obey her, feeling that this girl shared a soul with their creator, there were too many to handle without risk. He didn't possess too many followers right now, not enough to lose even someone as pathetic as Pettigrew.

 _Patience is a virtue_ , Tom mused, _regretfully not mine_. He bared her teeth. First things first. She would search the cave, looking for anything worth to take with her. Then she would examine the bowl. This could turn out very interesting.

.

 _Pathetic_ , Tom snarled two hours later. She stepped around the whimpering man, clawing at the stony ground like digging for water.

"Silence," she bellowed.

"Water, please," Pettigrew whined. For a moment Tom wondered if he was worth the trouble, before she created a simple bucket and filled it with water. "Thank you, thank you." The rat happily gulped down the water to quench his potion-induced thirst.

Tom ignored him. She had other things on her mind. Searching the cavern had been fruitful. There had been a hidden chest, looking like a boulder to anybody else but her. It contained a couple of spare wands, dozens of potions under a stasis spell, hundreds of books and enough money until Malfoy was able to deliver his own – Draco Malfoy that is, as he intended to get rid of Lucius as soon as possible. Lucius the coward. Lucius the traitor. He would pay. He knew from Draco's mind how Lucius stored away the diary. He had abandoned his master, probably thinking he was better off without Voldemort. In a way he was right, Tom admitted. With his master's return, he would have to be a servant again, something all Malfoys hated. Still, he would pay dearly for betraying him.

Reaching the small island had been a disappointment. Tom stared at the locket. It had been at the bottom of the bowl, protected by some vicious potion. She had nearly lost Pettigrew because of it. The idiot actually tried to drink from the lake. The Inferi would have killed him in seconds. He should be happy to have such a kind and patient master. Tom cackled. Staring at the locket, her humour instantly vanished. It looked like Slytherin's locket, but it wasn't. It wasn't even a good copy, and the feeling of it was all wrong. She would examine it later. For now, the whining man on the ground was too much of a distraction.

Tom sighed. Another riddle to solve. _I can't wait to return to Hogwarts._

.

Ginny was horrified. Scabbers was a man? A Death Eater had been hiding at the Burrow for years. He could have killed them in their sleep. And now he was helping Tom! The cave had been terrifying as well. Inferi? She had no idea what they were but according to Tom's thoughts they had to be some kind of undead monsters. What mad mind would create them and fill a lake with their bodies to protect something? Ginny sobbed. She could only hope for her brothers to realize the changes in her behaviour. She could only pray.

 _Don't hold your breath, little girl_ , Tom cackled.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – September**_

.

Albus Dumbledore was watching the DADA lesson with great interest. To avoid a repetition of last year's chaotic failure, he had done his best to acquire a competent DADA teacher this year. Kingsley Shacklebolt was a dear friend, an ally who belonged to his Order of the Phoenix and an experienced senior Auror to boot. The Order had been in hibernation for a couple of years, but Albus had reactivated it two years ago when Harry started his education at Hogwarts – partially, he had to admit, because there had still been a little hope and fear of the real Harry returning along with a terrible political fallout for him.

"This is the standard opening stance for magical duelling…"

Kingsley had been eager to introduce a more practical approach to the material. It had been one of Madam Bones' conditions as well. Kingsley would use the DADA lessons to teach the students something about duelling, security and Auror procedures, trying to raise interest in the job and to needle out a couple of suitable candidates. He planned to organize a couple of duelling competitions next term, with the 7th year students even getting the opportunity to fight some junior Aurors and watch a fight between Kingsley and the famous Madeye Moody, another old friend and order member.

"Very good, Mister Weasley, that was a superbly executed spell chain."

Albus nodded. He had to watch closely the Weasley twins. It was their OWL year and Kingsley had somehow convinced them to put a little more effort into their DADA studies. They were talented, this was obvious. However, they were quite lazy as well, at least regarding official school work. They could do really well, not as well as their older brothers but nonetheless. Regretfully, they only had their mind on pranks. Their younger brother was far behind in talent, but equally far more inclined to listen to Albus. He had done a good job at directing Harry so far. Harry was thankful for the care and love he got from the Weasley family. He trusted Albus and he despised the Slytherins. Everything was as it should be.

And now Ron Weasley had successfully integrated his sister as well into their little group, with her slowly replacing the Patil girl. Quite wonderful! The older families would love the Harry/Ginevra couple, Albus was sure of it. It was kind of James and Lily reborn, only this time without the Muggleborn stigma. Last year he had been a little troubled about her behaviour. She had been too sad, silent and withdrawn. But it had changed this summer, and for the better. Perhaps she had simply needed some time to find her place at Hogwarts. Many younger siblings were like this.

Yes, the Weasleys continued being a valuable asset. They had been more than helpful in the past, and he intended to make good use of them in the future as well.

.

Tom felt him watching "her". Headmaster Dumbledore was many things, but subtle he was not. So far, he had only used passive Legilimency on him, nothing he couldn't work around. Still, he had to prepare and work on his Occlumency. Failing to hide his real plans from Dumbledore would be a serious setback.

His plans had gone along smashingly since the return to Hogwarts. He was this near to finding the place where Dumbledore was hiding his soul-sliver. Harry was growing on "Ginny", with Ron being forced to integrate her as well as possible. The boy had no Occlumency or acting skills. Tom didn't have to use Legilimency on him to realize he was only doing this on Dumbledore's orders and actually hated her presence. The Patil girl, the only group member that didn't trust Tom from the start, had slowly been pushed away. Now Patil spent more time with her sister and some Hufflepuff girls. Tom sneered. Hufflepuffs were worthless, well mostly. The Bones girl could have been an asset because of her aunt, but she was too honest and stubborn to be worth the hassle. No, he would keep to his old servants for now. Pettigrew was his man outside of Hogwarts. He was pathetic in his cowardice and his craving to serve him, but he was useful as well, especially because of his Animagus form. And then there was Draco Malfoy.

The boy still had no idea about "her" identity. Because of the memory charm – the charm the diary had used on him – he had no idea of the past year's events, and no memory of his part in the possession of one Ginny Weasley. He had been thankful for the books Tom offered him so far, eager to learn new spells and to prove his intelligence. Not that there was much to prove. While he was no dumbass like his goons Goyle and Crabbe, he was no prodigy either. According to his estimation Malfoy was above average, one of the last among the top third of his class to put it nicely. It would be enough, for now.

"It's dirty." The boy that had occupied her mind entered the room.

"What did you expect?" Tom groused back and rolled his eyes.

Malfoy opened his mouth for a response, only to stop as he noticed the third occupant. His eyes widened and a cruel smirk played around his lips. A couple of days ago, Tom had decided to further Malfoy's education. He would learn duelling from their new DADA teacher. His duty however was to teach him how to cause pain – and how to stand the sight without vomiting. Perhaps the boy would even come to like it. The Shrieking Shack was a convenient place for these lessons. As he knew how to placate the Whomping Willow, it was an easy hiding place to enter. And any screams heard would only strengthen the tale of it being haunted. But every lesson on pain needed a subject. This one had been proffered by Pettigrew. Naturally Pettigrew was absent now. Malfoy knew about his other servant's existence, but not his identity. It had the side effect of proving that the girl was in charge. With her pretending to be "just another servant of the Dark Lord", she had to use such tricks, for now. After the ritual, after his return for real, this would change as well.

"Who is this?" Draco nodded towards the girl. She was around his age, bound and gagged, her eyes wide with panic.

"This," Tom said with a mockingly sweet voice, "is Hannah." He put a hand on the girl's shoulder who tried to flinch away. "Hannah offered to help us further your education today, Mr. Malfoy."

Malfoy's grin broadened. He drew his wand, eager to show off his skills. "How do we start?"

"Slowly, I think," Tom looked thoughtful. "We want her to last a while. It wouldn't do if she died after the first round of spells." The girl panicked even more and tried to scream, the gag muffling her voice. "Perhaps you should start with something easy to warm her up a little."

"The Caedo?" Malfoy offered. He had been on the receiving side of the Caedo spell often enough to know how much it hurt. The "Whip of Pain" wasn't called the little sister of the Crucio spell for nothing.

"Yes, what a splendid idea. Go on." Ginny wondered if she should order Pettigrew to bring two targets next time. It had been far too long since she had the opportunity to work off her darker side.

Draco stepped in front of the girl. She was watching him with fear, leaning back in the chair as if it would help her. Pettigrew had used a sticking charm to fasten it to the ground, so she wouldn't tip over. Draco gulped. He was nervous now. The foreign girl had proven to be a harsh task master, not unlike his father. A failure would earn him pain. However, his father had never taught him spells like this. Following his mother's wishes, he had postponed those lessons. And he wouldn't get him a live target as well. He cared too much about appearances.

"Go on," Ginny commanded, her voice harsh and impatient.

Draco nodded curtly, composed himself and raised his wand. "Caedo Disciplinae!" His aim was true, gesture and incantation not perfect but good enough, and his determination unwavering. The picture of his father flailing on the ground filled his mind.

And the wonderful sound of the girl's screams filled his ears.

 _What a mistress!_

.

Ginny felt violently ill. Tom used and abused her body in a manner that disgusted her. Back in Egypt she wanted to gag as she watched him seduce that paedophile. Perhaps even worse were her emotions when he killed him bloodily. She had felt good about it, watching him as the light of life faded in his eyes. He deserved death, but on the other hand she feared that Tom's presence started to influence her more and more.

And now she had to spend time with Malfoy. At least it wasn't in a romantic way, but it was bad enough. Torturing that girl had been a horrifying experience. She had no doubt it wouldn't be the last time. Instead it would only get worse. Ginny had expected someone to notice something weird about her behaviour, but so far Tom had been able to hoodwink everyone.

More than once she had tried to force him out or at least to get her body back under control if only for a few minutes. Tom's hold on her body was too strong however. Even deep in the night, with Tom sleeping and dreaming of world conquest, there had been no success so far. He had actually been amused by her attempts.

 _One day I'll succeed_ , Ginny promised herself. _One day_.

.

 _ **A Village near Vancouver – end of September (Harry Evans)**_

.

"I've hidden a couple of rabbits around my hut. They're sleeping so they won't move – this time. I want you to find them using your magic. Your grade depends on how many rabbits you find as well as how fast and reliably you use your magic. Go on!"

Mary Bluefeather was an old crone. Her skin was leathern and wrinkled, her hair grey and sparse, but her eyes were sharp as ever and her hand swift – far too swift to Harry's liking. He had barely started to concentrate on his "lynx' ears" spell before he felt her cuffing him. "What is the spell of todays' lesson?"

"Err … life awareness?" Harry half asked, half stated, looking sheepishly.

"Correct, so try using it."

Harry pouted. "But Lynx' ears…"

"But Lynx' ears nothing," Mary Bluefeather growled. "This isn't about doing it the easy way but about learning new spells."

"But Life Awareness is difficult to use," Harry whined. He liked far more those spells that enhanced his normal senses. Jenny had similar abilities through the Way of the Adept and the teenagers often compared advantages and disadvantages of both approaches. He had gotten quite good in using them and loved to walk around in the forest, sniffing the air and listening to all kind of nature's noises.

"Exactly why you need to train on it," Mary scolded him.

"It gives me a headache," Harry attempted a different excuse.

Mary allowed none of it. "Life Awareness, now!"

"Well, all right," Harry sighed.

The other students had already started with different degrees of success. Hastily he sat down, put his hands on the ground and concentrated. Life Awareness was a difficult spell. It needed much time, training and experience to be used at its full potential. It allowed the caster to see life auras in the vicinity, theoretically bypassing any barrier and ignoring any cover. The problem was the pure amount of information the caster got in return. Everything living, even more in this area with plants, animals and insects surrounding the hut. Harry not only had to cast the spell and find the rabbits, but to blank out everything else as well . A single rabbit was in front of him as a kind of aura example to compare with his findings. An experienced caster was able to differentiate the auras of hundreds of animals and humans. Most started with the aura of an important animal or person. Harry intended to memorize the auras of Floe and his family first. Doing this, he would be able to find Jenny quite easily if the need arose – and to avoid Michiko in case…

Slowly the way he "saw" the area changed. Everything turned green in different shades and intensities. Harry faded down the signals he got from insects, "recoloured" the plant life and intensified the stronger echoes. As expected, his head started to hurt a little but he ignored it. There were around 30 signals within 200 yards. Some of them were easy to dismiss: Mary, the other students, Mary's old cow and two deers watching them from the edge of the near forest. One by one Harry examined the remaining signals, marking them as rabbits or something different. "Rabbit, rabbit, mouse, dog I think, rabbit, rabbit, and rabbit." It continued like this for a while, the other students doing the same and Mary watching them closely. From time to time she stopped one of the students, like when she told Harry he was wrong about a rabbit – it was a cat actually – and commanding another student to stop before exhausting himself too much.

In the end, Harry was quite content with his success. Michiko would be proud and Jenny eager to compare notes. He was happy however, Harry admitted, that he was allowed to stop now. He was exhausted and in pain. Supposedly he would need a couple of hours to recover from this, despite the herb tea Mary had prepared in advance. The spell might be useful but he didn't like it one bit.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – October**_

.

"Regulus Arcturus Black," Peter Pettigrew offered, happy to be helpful again. After weeks of pondering the riddle of the initials RAB – used so mockingly in that note – Tom, at his wit's end, had told his servant about it at last. Now, he felt even more stupid. Because of his limited memories, there was so much he didn't know about his older self.

"Tell me about him," he commanded impatiently.

"He's… was the younger brother of Sirius Black."

"Your supposed friend," Tom remembered. "The one they all think betrayed Potter."

"Right, that one," Peter grinned evilly. "Unlike Sirius his brother had always been the Blacks' golden boy. He always behaved well and followed his mother's commands. He took the mark barely out of school. He was two years younger than me and because of Sirius' hatred towards him I rarely met the boy. He seemed a little shy but intelligent."

"What has become of him?"

"He died," Peter sneered. "Actually, you killed him, Master. I don't know the details, but the rumours said that he betrayed you and tried to run away. They never found his body so perhaps he survived and simply kept a low profile."

Tom gestured him to keep silent, pondering. If RAB was Regulus Black and the boy really betrayed him, it was a reasonable suspicion the boy somehow bypassed the cave's wards and exchanged the real locket with this fake one. His older self may had killed the boy, or maybe not. Tom turned to Pettigrew again.

"Where could he hide something really precious?"

.

 _ **Saturday - a couple of days later**_

It had been surprisingly easy to get Professor Dumbledore's allowance to leave Hogwarts's grounds – supposedly to buy something for Harry and distract him from his usual bad Halloween thoughts. The Headmaster even looked quite content about the whole idea and mumbled something about young love. Old fool. Tom wanted to gag.

Now, he was at Grimmauld Place, following one of Pettigrew's leads. Right after entering the area with old houses enclosing the little open square, he sensed he was right about coming here. One of his soul-slivers was there, hidden behind strong wards. Pettigrew's beady eyes darted around. There were only Muggles present, and despite his long time under rat's cover he knew enough about Muggle appearance to stay unobtrusive. Tom slowly stepped nearer. He was able to feel the wickedness of the wards. The house looked old and decrepit. Apparently, nobody had taken care of it for years, but the protections still worked. _No Fidelius at least_ , he mused. _But I feel strong blood wards, vicious wards._ They would be too strong for him to overcome, even more so for his worthless servant. Tom cursed his weak magical core anew. He had to find another way to enter the house.

He had to think about it. "Let's go."

.

 _ **Kutenai Village – Halloween (Harry Evans)**_

.

Remus watched the teenagers from the edge of the small clearing, his arm around the woman he came to love over the past decade. Yes, at last, he was ready to admit to himself that he loved her. She had been good for him and for Harry as well. Michiko, her hand covering her mouth to cover up a small sob, had happy tears in her eyes – eyes that scrutinized the small but important ceremony in front of them.

It was the night of the dead, the night for the living to remember their ancestors. Tonight, the spirits were able to pass the barrier between this world and the next. Remus would have preferred to perform this ceremony in Godric's Hollow, but the risk was too great. And what were a couple thousand miles compared to the distance between life and death? Paul was leading the teenagers through the ceremony, and the spirits of The Wolf and The Raccoon were present, showing their support and blessing.

"Lily," Remus sobbed as the first of two ghosts appeared beside the fire. He could only guess how Harry felt right now.

"Mum," a single word of Harry was enough to nearly break Michiko's heart. He had called her Mum before. She only hoped that she had been able to compensate for Lily Potter well enough and would continue doing so in the future. For a moment she wondered about the fate of Jenny's parents. Nobody had known their identity. They weren't dead, this they knew, or at least this was one possible reason for them to not appear tonight as well. She simply couldn't imagine a mother's ghost hating her daughter so much to not follow the Spirits' call on Halloween.

The second ghost became clearer now. "James," Remus' heart got a little lighter with the knowledge that his friends were together in the after-life.

"Hello Remus," Lily greeted him, her eyes never leaving Harry's face. "You took good care of my darling son."

"I promised."

"That you did." Her voice very soft, she continued. "Hello Harry, I'm so sorry I couldn't be there for you."

"I missed you, Mum, Dad." Jenny squeezed his hand a little.

"Hello Harry," James greeted him. "You're looking good. No glasses I see, one bullet missed it seems."

"I had glasses," Harry responded. "But last year my eyes got magically corrected."

"They can do this now? I could have used it myself. It must certainly make it easier for you to play Quidditch." Lily rolled her eyes, mumbling "men".

Harry shrugged. "I don't play Quidditch."

"What?" James was flabbergasted. "but… Remus? Why?"

Remus shrugged. It was Harry who answered the question, his voice a tad irritated. "There are more important things to do. I've still got much to learn. Next summer I'll get my mundane OWL and the summer after my magical one."

Lily smiled. "I'm so proud of you, but don't overwork yourself."

Harry pouted a little. "Remus tells me the same thing all the time."

"He's still a very fine student," Michiko interjected. "A bit on the hyperactive side sometimes, but luckily he has a couple of physical classes as well to blow off some steam."

"You're his…" Lily hesitated.

"I try to be there for him, to be family." Michiko explained softly.

"And for Remus as well I see," Lily smiled happily, watching the couples' hands.

"She tries," Jenny interjected. "He was stubborn for some years, always complaining about not being good enough and all that sh…"

"Jenny!" Michiko stopped her cussing.

"You know she's right," Harry shrugged. "We were already thinking about locking the both of you up until he got that mile-long stick out of his…"

"Harry!" Four adult voices shouted – three actually, as James was laughing his ass off.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Paul did exactly that. "But we have still much to do before the night ends." The Wolf and The Raccoon stepped to Harry and Jenny's sides.

"You're right, Paul, but…" Harry struggled for words.

"We can call them again if you want, and if they agree."

"We agree," Lily said without hesitation. James nodded silently. "I assume we're here because of your friend." She nodded towards Jenny.

"Isn't she a bit old to be your girlfriend?" James wondered, earning him a cuff from Lily.

"Dad, you're crass," Harry grimaced. "Mum, this is Jenny. She is the most important person for me. And she is," he gestured his father to keep his mouth shut. "my sister in all important ways – aside from one."

"You want to form a magical sibling bond," James understood first, having belonged to an old magical family. He sounded far more serious now.

"For ten years she has been there for me," Harry explained. "She protected me, she taught me, and she feels as strong about me as I do for her. I want your blessing to do this." Jenny said nothing, but smiled happily and squeezed his hand again.

Lily, remembering the sister she once had but lost long before her own death, watched the teenagers closely. She sensed the bond between them. It was far stronger than anything she ever had with Petunia. This girl would never abandon Harry, never turn jealous and hateful like Petunia had. She still missed her sister after all those years and knew that James had thought about doing exact the same ceremony with Sirius years ago. For a moment she wondered what became of Sirius. She would have to ask Remus later. First things first.

"Please tell me about your… sister," she asked softly.

At the end of the night Harry and Jenny, with the blessing of Harry's parents, formed the bond that existed between siblings.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Shrieking Shack – Halloween**_

.

It was the same place, but a different victim. Only this one was not about teaching a lesson, not about simply causing pain. No, Tom had something different in mind, something far more sinister and helpful. The bound boy visited one of the smaller magical schools littering Great Britain. He wasn't strong. He didn't belong to an important family. He was a real nobody, perfect for a little test run. In a few minutes he would die, painfully but in a way that would strengthen Ginny's magical core. It wouldn't be a big push, albeit not an unimportant one as well. It would be interesting to test whether the increase was a permanent one as she hoped or only temporary. According to the result, he would repeat this ceremony a few more times in the near future. While Ginny's magical strength wouldn't be adequate for years to come, and every bit of magical strength counted.

"Let's begin."

.

 _ **Hogwarts – November (Harry Potter)**_

.

"You!"

Hearing the hatred pouring out of that voice Hermione instinctively flinched back. A raging Ronald Weasley stormed towards her, his friends following him. Harry looked nervous, Lavender gleeful and Parvati concerned. Ginny was a couple of steps behind, her expression a mask of indifference. She had been like this towards Hermione and Luna since the term started.

"Stop right there!" Luna bellowed, stepping between Ron and her friend, wand drawn and pure hate on her face. Her voice and expression was so different from her usual self that Ron immediately stopped his advance. "What do you want, Weasley?"

"Ron, don't," Parvati moved to stop him as well. She tried to grab his arm but he shook her off.

"Your damned cat killed Scabbers."

"What are you talking about? He's right there." Luna pointed towards Crookshanks who was following Hermione as usual. The cat actually yawned, not mightily impressed by the redheaded sloth. Ron lunged at him, dodging Parvati's attempt at stopping him, only to fall victim to Luna's foot. Tripping over it, he smashed to the ground. There was an ugly sound and much blood fell freely as he looked up, only to find himself staring into two angry faces and two wands.

"Stop it, Ron. You have no proof," Parvati tried again. "You don't even know if Scabbers is dead. Perhaps he simply vanished, it wouldn't be for the first time." She was right, and a calmer Ron would have admitted it. Scabbers had vanished often enough this term, but never this long. Since before Halloween there had been no trace of him and slowly he got really concerned about the rat. Yes, a calmer Ron would have admitted it, but this Ron was anything but calm. He jumped up and charged, shoving Luna aside before she was able to finish her spell. The boy had easily two stones on the small girl and she was pushed into the wall quite violently.

"Petrificus totalus!" Ron stiffened, his body bound by invisible ropes. Hermione hastened to Luna, only vaguely noticing how Parvati stopped Lavender from interfering. She helped her up, concerned. Her silvery eyes had a hazed look about them and Hermione feared that Luna got a concussion. Turning around, her glare pierced the helpless boy. Oh, how she would love to kick him into the groin. She wouldn't do that however, not now. "If you ever hurt Luna again, you'll pay, Weasley. Crooks didn't kill your mangy rat. Scabbers shouldn't even be at Hogwarts anyway. I'm sure you never had him examined. Rats transfer diseases you know. Don't come near us again if you value your privates." His eyes bulged in fear.

The girls walked away, Hermione supporting her friend. She looked back as she heard steps following them. It was Parvati. "I'm sorry," she gushed, before stepping forward to grab Luna's other arm and supporting her as well.

"Hi Vati," Luna moaned, her voice surprisingly happy. "You have far less Wrackspurts around your head now."

Parvati blinked. "Thanks, I think."

Slowly the trio walked down the corridor. "You're not forgiven, you know," Hermione whispered after a while. "Not completely."

"I know," Parvati admitted. "I'm working on it."

.

 _ **Hogwarts – December**_

.

He was this close but so far at the same time.

Right behind this door was the first ward. Tom could easily break it, but it would certainly instantly alarm Dumbledore. With the original trap door walled off, Ginny had needed several weeks to find the new entrance. Pettigrew had known about the Cerberus and the place the Headmaster had hidden the trap for his older self. The traps hadn't been all that difficult back then, the wards not too strong. It had been as if Dumbledore wanted for someone to break through. Apparently, his older self had been too haughty to fall for the ultimate trap. Voldemort's soul-sliver had been somehow incarcerated. Tom needed it. He needed the power and – more importantly – the knowledge hidden in that sliver.

This time however the wards were far stronger. They were meant to keep away any possible intruder. Did Dumbledore expect another attempt from Tom Riddle or was it only to protect it from his followers? The first power ritual had gone even better than expected. The raise in magical power was small but noticeable. More importantly, it was permanent. A couple more rituals and he would be able to smash his way through the wards. With the sliver in reach and Ravenclaw's Diadem safe, he only had to find a way to get his hands on the locket. He would work on it over Christmas break. "Ginny" smiled an ugly smile.

 _Soon. So soon._

.

 _ **Kutenai Village (Harry Evans)**_

.

Today, it was Michiko's turn to sit the lesson out. She watched Harry speak with Remus and Martin about the exercise they had planned with no small amount of concern. For the past weeks, she had started teaching him the cat language. With her furry side under full control – she was able to switch into her tiger half anytime – it had been far easier than back then when Remus only had the full moon nights to teach him "wolfie". Harry's language skills were coming along quite nicely. No surprise there, he had always been really talented. Today however was about fighting skills. Martin, the French-Canadian belonging to the Elder Council, knew enough about healing to take care of everything, but Michiko hoped that he wouldn't require his help.

"This isn't about duelling," Martin explained. "Your skills and Remus' are far too different for such a thing. But sooner or later you'll have to defend yourself from a wand user. Such a fight will be completely different from your duels with Jenny."

Harry nodded. In a real fight against someone with Jenny's skills in hand-to-hand combat he would be defenceless. Luckily, there weren't many of her calibre running around. She would turn seventeen in a few months and was already able to win one fight out of three against Michiko, despite their mother having fifteen years' experience on her and a strength and speed surpassing any other woman Harry knew. At least he was able to defend himself against Jenny. His training in Karate, Kendo and the Way of the Adept was coming along nicely. However, he had never tried to fight a wand user so far. The Shamans' kind of magic wasn't really meant to be used that way. It was far too slow. Yes, he had learned a shielding charm and even knew how to hurl a stunning bolt, at long range and very precisely. The bolt he had actually learned in his forester class. It was used to incapacitate an animal for examination, healing and sometimes relocating. However, both spells needed some time to prepare, easily three to five times what a wand user needed. There were good reasons for using a wand, he had to admit. On the other hand, he wouldn't want to miss all the other thing a Shaman was able to do or the feeling he got from weaving magic like it was living water. And the advantage of not needing a wand was nothing to sneeze at either.

"A wand user has two clear advantages towards you: range and speed." Martin cast a couple of stunners at a dummy. He was slower than Remus and less accurate, but not bad. "Most wand users fight at a distance, between five and twenty yards. They rarely start at farther away, because it becomes increasingly difficult to hit a target and someone aware of the attack has more time to dodge it. Let's try something first." A couple of times, Harry charged a dummy while Martin and Remus hurled spells at other targets at the same distance. From a standing start, he needed between three and four seconds to cover the distance, more when he tried to run in a more erratic path while dodging the incoming attacks. Martin was able to cast four stunners in that time, Remus an incredible six, weaving one spell into the next. Most of those spells however weren't all that accurate and both men were quite exhausted afterwards.

"Alright," Martin concluded. "I'd say it is realistic to expect an opponent to cast two to four more or less well-placed spells at you while you charge without getting too exhausted." Remus nodded. That sounded about right. "Michiko started teaching you how to boost your strength and speed with your adept powers, correct."

"Yes, I'm able to run faster this way, but I need a moment to prepare it." That had to be expected. While many tribe members were able to boost their strength for the occasional heavy lifting, most had to concentrate on the task beforehand. A small test showed, that Harry needed between a half and one full second but was able to run much faster afterwards.

"Impressive," Martin nodded. "Nearly forty percent faster. How far can you go like this?"

"Fifty to seventy yards without exhausting myself. Two hundred yards was the maximum so far, but I was completely worn out afterwards. And you really should watch Jenny do this. She can even outrun Mum and Dad." Michiko grinned at the memory. Jenny had worked her ass off but honestly won the race. She could easily beat any world class sprinter now on tracks up to 400 yards.

"Despite the required preparation, this could be useful, especially when your opponent doesn't expect it. The most important lesson, Harry, will be when to use what ability in a fight. Sometimes it may even be better to lose a fight than to show your hand too soon." Harry nodded. He understood even if it would be difficult for him to hold back. He was quite competitive and hated losing a fight.

"And now let's test how good you are at dodging."

.

 _ **Hogwarts Express**_

.

"We'll meet again after Christmas," Tom told him as he offered Malfoy one of the scrolls he brought from Egypt.

"Yes, Mistress," Draco bowed his head.

"And I expect you to think about what I told you." Draco nodded. He wasn't happy about it but didn't dare to complain. "You can't always charge ahead. You have to be clever. We are no Gryffindors. We plan ahead. We gather information and allies. I expect you to use the break and think about who a possible ally could be and how to convince them."

"Even among other houses?" Draco grimaced.

"Even among other houses. Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs have their uses as well. Ravenclaws make good researchers and crafters, and they are less likely to betray you. And Hufflepuffs make good cannon-fodder."

"I'll think about it, Mistress," Draco bowed again and departed.

He is indeed malleable, Tom mused. He seemed able to evolve and change was needed. According to Pettigrew the older Voldemort had tried to strongarm his way into the seat of might. He lost the war in the end. This time he would try a different approach, a softer approach. He would use brute strength if necessary, but it wouldn't be his first choice anymore – at least not always. He already had other plans, plans wherein Sirius Black played an important part. He needed soldiers but officers as well. And now Malfoy would have the chance to prove his potential.

 _Use it well, little Draco._

.

 _ **The Burrow – Christmas**_

.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Ginny?" Arthur Weasley had fled the house and was working on some of his gadgets, while Molly commandeered the house like a general in preparation of Christmas. Ginny had apparently been able to slip away as well, no small feat with Molly trying to teach her daughter everything "a girl had to know about cooking". Molly's eagerness in that regard was one of the drawbacks of being the sole daughter among a bunch of sons – sons with the infamous Weasley appetite to add. It didn't help that Tom had the strong urge to kill the woman every time she said something about housework.

"I have a question."

"What is it?"

"Someone," Ginny started. "Someone mentioned Sirius Black." Tom still had no idea how to enter Black Manor in Grimmauld Place. He would have to wait at least two years before this weak body was able to break through the wards on its own, with a high risk even then. There had to be other ways.

"Sirius Black you say," Arthur looked up.

"Yeah," Ginny nodded, avoiding her father's eyes. "It was around Halloween."

"I understand," Arthur sighed. They had tried to protect Harry, but it had to be expected for him to learn about the traitor sooner or later.

"Does Harry…"

"No," Ginny grimaced. "I don't think so. It's difficult enough for him without learning about that traitor."

"You take good care of Harry," Arthur patted her head and the girl had difficulty not to flinch back.

"What happened to him?"

"Do you really want to hear the story? It was ugly."

"Yes, I need to know. To be prepared… in case."

"Alright," Arthur sighed. He sat down. "After James and Lily got murdered by you-know-who and vanished as he attempted to kill Harry…" Luckily, he didn't look up right now, so he missed the death glare from his daughter. "Sirius vanished as well. We still don't know how they met, but there was a fight between him and Peter Pettigrew. Peter was no match for him and Sirius killed him. He used a blasting hex, utterly destroying Peter and killing a dozen Muggles as well. They only found a finger from poor Peter." A finger he still missed, even in rat form, as Ginny knew all too well.

"And Sirius?"

"He got caught soon afterwards."

"Did he explain why he betrayed the Potters? Perhaps at the trial?"

"You know," Arthur mused. "I don't remember a trial. It was a time of confusion back then. Trials were a hurried thing for a while. There was no doubt about his guilt, with him being the secret keeper."

"For the Fidelius Spell hiding the Potters?"

"Exactly," Arthur nodded. "Anyhow, they locked him up in Azkaban and he's still there."

"There aren't many Black left, are there?" Ginny wondered loudly.

"None that I know of. His younger brother apparently died around the same time, his parents a few years later. Naturally there are his cousins, but Narcissa married Lucius Malfoy," his voice turned disgusted. "Bellatrix is in Azkaban with her husband as well, and Andromeda was cast out of the family for marrying a Muggleborn."

"So, he still would be Lord Black if he ever gout out?"

Arthur grimaced. "That he would. But it won't ever happen, Ginny."

 _We'll see about that._

.

 _ **Kutenai Village (Harry Evans)**_

.

It was the last class before Christmas. At least for Harry, as Jenny had already left school, getting two additional days to prepare for her next exam. Today Michiko wanted to test his snow-runner skills. While Ninjas supposedly used that skill to bypass pressure plates and quicksand traps, and there were rumours about Adepts able to cross water without getting wet. The most commonly used application of that skill around Canada was to run over snow, both to speedily travel distances in winter and to cross unstable snow bridges or thin ice layers on the local lake. The lesson turned compulsory since a sixteen-year-old student rescued his younger sister three years ago after she broke through the ice.

"Remember," she told Harry.

"Light feet," he grinned.

Michiko rolled her eyes and cuffed him. "Prat. Yes, light feet, but more importantly you have to flow. Snow is not your enemy. It won't hinder you. It won't trap you. It is natural. It is your friend."

"A friend who sometimes hides pitfalls," Harry argued.

"Yes," Michiko admitted. "It's a possibility. You'll have to learn how to detect such things. For now, we'll use a safe parkour. I want you to do one round. Run along the trees, cross the small creek over there, up the hill and down again as fast as possible. Be careful not to trip. Further along the other side towards the deep snow. There I want you to trip a couple of times."

"You want to me to trip? Intentionally?"

"Yes," Michiko nodded. "Trip, stand up and continue your run. Three times at least. You have to learn how to go on if something happens. A failure is nothing you can avoid all the time but it can't influence you. You can't allow it to stop you because you fear it. This isn't for its artistic value, this lesson is for your survival."

"I understand Mum."

"Good," Michiko smiled. It had been more difficult to convince Jenny three years ago. The girl hated failures. "Prepare… and go!"

.

 _ **A/N**_

 _* Natsume = tea tin for light tea, Kama = iron tea kettle, Matcha = tea powder, I hope I got it right._

 _Wikipedia knowledge again, hope I got it right._


	8. Chapter 8 Prisoner of Azkaban (93-94)- 2

_**A/N**_

 _In this chapter I'll describe a couple of shorter scenes about Harry's school lessons. It's only to show you what he learned before the main part of the story begins. Sometimes I will only mention something in passing or hint at it. The complete description would be far too long otherwise._

 **.**

 **The Prisoner of Azkaban – Part 2**

.

 _ **Forbidden Forest – January 1994**_

.

"Pathetic."

The girl's words were like a whip. The girl whose identity he still didn't know. Not a Slytherin, that he was certain about. Perhaps she was a Ravenclaw. There had been no hint, not the slightest reaction when he offered his ideas about prospective supporters and allies among the House of the Eagles. Tom had actually been impressed back then and even praised Malfoy – mildly, but praise nonetheless. The boy got acceptable results when he actually started to use that brain of his. But today, there wouldn't be any praise. They had left Hogwarts through one of the secret exits to start his training on the Imperio curse. Pettigrew had found and prepared a deserted shack at the edge of the forest, leaving behind a pair of chained test objects. So far Malfoy's attempts had been even weaker than could be expected from a thirteen-year-old. _Maliciousness obviously doesn't equal strength of will_ , Tom mused.

"Your commands are barely strong enough to make him do something stupid like jumping around. It will be far more difficult to order something dangerous or truly against his will. The reason we use the Imperio is not for our amusement, or at least not always, but to further our aims: make an official bend the rules; force a man to kill his family or himself. You'll want to be able to do things like that. Not this nonsense."

"As if you're any better…" Draco dared to growl, paling a second later as he realized his stupidity.

The girl glared at him and for a moment Malfoy expected to die. She brandished her wand. "Imperio." His fear turned into sick interest as he watched one of the prisoners stand up. The young man walked towards the table, grabbed a knife and hesitated. With a bit of struggle, he put his left hand on the table before thrusting the knife right through his hand, screaming in pain.

"This is power, Malfoy. We won't leave until you're able to accomplish the same."

Malfoy licked his lips, surely imagining doing the same to some of his school mates. Tom sneered. He didn't really expect Malfoy to get the same result. Perhaps his target would cut himself. At least he had gotten better at duelling. Hopefully, he wouldn't be too bad in the March competition. _And next year, we'll have to start with Obliviation, always a very helpful spell_.

Yes, Malfoy was neither the best nor the worst servant. _We have to work with the material at hand._

.

 _ **Vancouver – same time (Harry Evans)**_

.

Harry was meeting with Remus and Martin again. Last week, at school, he had been training on how to boost strength and quickness with his magic. He was getting better and, far more important to him, faster at using this skill. He would turn fourteen in July, and with his 5 feet 4 and a weight scratching at 100 pounds he was a bit above average for his age. Like Jenny he had a very healthy BMI, due to Michiko taking good care of their meals. Coupled with his outdoor classes and regular Kendo and Karate sessions, he was certainly stronger and had more stamina than most teenagers his age. And this was without using his magical abilities. He had learned to activate his enhanced speed in less time than before, needing a bit longer for the enhanced strength as he had to funnel some of his magic not only into his muscles but his bones and sinews as well. It wouldn't do having the strength to lift something but to injure his skeleton in the process.

"I'm quite happy with your process, Harry," Martin praised him. "By the way, I want you to train your casting speed with your stunning bolt as well."

Harry nodded. That made sense. Until he started using a wand – something they had planned for a time after he turned fifteen – the stun bolt was his only long-range attack. He knew that Michiko was an expert at the Japanese Bow as well, but he had never been talented at it. Like Jenny he preferred to get close and dirty. "I tried something. Let me show you."

He hid behind a tree, the target he wanted to hit was out of sight for now. Concentrating for a while, he slowly gathered magical energy in his hand. It looked like a small ball of brown fire. Harry assumed the colour was because of his affinity to wood, as most of his class mates produced the more common pale blue flames. Content with the result, he stepped around the tree, aimed and hurled the bolt. It hit true as expected.

"That could be useful for a surprise attack," Remus commented the attack.

"Yes," Martin agreed. "However, you'll have to train on creating this faster. And how to keep the necessary concentration when you're running with the flame in your hand; keep it up when you get injured; or how to gather the energy while you're running."

"And you should try to keep the flame less conspicuous," Remus added.

Harry sighed. He had much training ahead, it seemed.

"Alright," Martin changed the subject. "You know what you have to do. But today I want to see your Ki fist."

Harry paled. "We've only started with that." And it was exhausting as hell.

Martin lifted a single eyebrow. He wasn't as harsh as Michiko in his training sessions, but he was no pushover either. If he decided that something was necessary for Harry's training, he wouldn't stop without a very good reason. "Show me."

The trio gathered around one of the dummies. "Normal hit first," Martin commanded.

Harry nodded. He stepped in front of the dummy and, without much delay, hit it several times. Without magic first, then slowly putting magic into the hits. Remus inwardly admitted that he was impressed. Because of his training, Harry's normal hits were already quite nasty. But when he put his magic behind the punches they turned into real bad news for the target. The dummy showed signs of strain from the punches' force very fast. Martin cast a spell unknown to Remus and numbers started to appear above the dummy. He assumed it was about the strength of the hit, like in the Rocky IV movie that came out a couple of years ago. Remus had watched the film with a bunch of the village teenagers. Michiko hadn't been impressed.

"That's enough," Martin stopped him, who only wanted to have a comparison. "Now three steps back and again."

Harry obeyed and started to punch the air, now only his magic hitting the dummy. The difference was noticeable. The dummy still behaved like an invisible fist was hitting it, but the strain was far less potent than before. The numbers were around 30 percent less than the direct hits.

"Step back another three steps." Harry followed the lead and again increased the distance. Now he was around five yards away from the dummy. He still hit the target, but it was barely a slap, the number dropping to just under 10 percent out of a direct hit. A few tests later they knew that eight to ten yards was the maximum to have any effect with his Ki fist attacks, while he had to be as close as three to four yards to have a real impact. Harry however looked like he was done for today.

"Enough," Martin stopped him. He wasn't eager to feel Michiko's temper if he returned Harry to her too weak to walk on his own. "It's a good start. I want you to train on this and your stun bolt in turns. Don't do both on the same day though, we don't want to overtire your core. Train on simple punches first for raw power first. Continue with exact hitting, the smaller the target area the better. Follow up with sideway hits. You could use that for knocking something over as well or for operating a door's handle. After you mastered that, we'll train on the reverse punch."

"Reverse punch?" Harry wondered.

"Yes," Martin nodded. "Michiko will have to show you. In your usual Ki fist attack you channel your magic away from you in a straight line. It is possible however to use it for pulling."

"For disarming?" Remus suggested.

"For disarming, for example," Martin agreed. "But first let's work on the Ki fist. Pulling is for later."

.

 _ **Hogwarts – February (Harry Potter)**_

.

Barely suppressing an evil cackle, George slipped onto the bench beside Fred. "Everything is prepared," he said with a malicious grin.

"Did she notice something?"

George shrugged. "I suppose. I don't care. She has no proof and is still on her way." Like Fred, he turned towards the entrance of the Great Hall where it had been Fred's job to charm the door. It was the second component in a 2-component-prank, the other being a powder he had strewn about on Granger's robes. Their on-off girlfriends Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet were watching them from their seats down the table, frowning about the Twins blatant anticipation. The Twins had left Hermione alone for a while, with her hanging around Filch far too often for their taste. The girl certainly had started to feel safe again. Now it was time for payback.

"There she is," Fred cackled.

Hermione, entering the hall with Luna, had no forewarning. She didn't notice the charm going off, the result starting to show after a ten second delay, enough time for her to reach the centre of the great hall. It was certainly an impressive show of genius to combine a potion-like powder with a time-delayed charm to do exactly what the Twins had in mind, but Hermione certainly didn't appreciate it. She had barely reached the middle of the hall when her robes started to fume. Startled, she tried to put the fire out, only to have her robe fall away in shreds. Hermione tried to keep it from falling apart, but there was no use to it and a few moments later she was left in nothing than her practical and not very sexy underwear. The Twins roared with laughter, many other students – mostly the male ones but a couple female Claws as well – joining them. Many other female students felt a mix of pity and anger watching the poor girl as she tried to hide her body, not because of the nudity but because her old injuries were plainly visible now. The hanging shoulder and the smashed thigh were the most noticeable ones, but there were others as well. The Twins had no idea how many Gryffindors would change their attitude towards "Granger the traitor" over the next few weeks because of this pitiful sight.

"You didn't tell me it was underwear day, Hermione," Luna scolded her friend, ignoring Hermione's deep blush. With a flick of her wand she joined her friend, evanescing her own robe as well. The difference in age was well developed so to say. With Hermione being 17 months her senior, she was clearly showing in the chest area, earning her a number of catcalls. Luna however was still a flat-chest girl, the top more for show than being of real use. Nonetheless she had a fairy-kind of beauty that many boys noticed for the first time. Luna linked arms with her friend and started walking towards the Ravenclaw table, head held high and ignoring the commotion.

"Hey, Mudblood," Draco Malfoy yelled, incapable of keeping his mouth shut and for the moment ignoring everything his mistress had taught him about subtleness. Tom felt a headache coming. "Perhaps with this show you'll get yourself a Valentine date." He cackled for about two seconds, exactly the time span Millie needed to lose her temper. She hated Granger with a vengeance. Millie was more attentive than most Slytherins expected. Greg's crush on the girl was clear to her and Millie would have loved to hurt the girl – hurt but not humiliate. This was not right. And she really liked Luna. She liked her stories and how she saw the world through her always dreamy eyes. It didn't help Malfoy's case that his remark hit too close. Millie knew that she wouldn't get a Valentine date herself because of her "heavy bone structure" and her pasty skin.

Hermione and Luna halted as an impressive slap thundered through the hall. Millie was standing over Malfoy, the boy groggy from the hit and cowering in fear and shock. There was a big bruise on his cheek and he had a split bloody lip. Without a word Millie pushed a couple of plates from the table, the tableware clattering on the ground. Fetching the tablecloth, she calmly walked towards the pair of girls. At the 'Claw and Gryffindor tables the same happened as Padma, Parvati and Penelope hastened to follow Millie's lead. Covering the girls with the tablecloths, Penelope started to charm them into a likening of robes.

"Show is over, return to your meals," Professor Snape thundered, the only reaction from the couple of teachers present. Until now he had been content to watch the show, eager to see how the students would handle the matter. He had been impressed by Bulstrode's reaction and hoped his godson would learn something out of this. Hastily the students complied and avoided to look too openly towards the girls. Hermione and Luna very well noticed that McGonagall had stayed silent the whole time while Professor Flitwick and Sprout were somewhere else in the castle. They finished their walk and sat down, the four girls arranging things around them. Nobody dared to say anything against Millie's presence even without Penelope's glare promising pain and death.

"Thank you, Bulstrode," Hermione said after a while, still trying to come to terms with the events.

Millie huffed. "I did it for Luna. She shouldn't…"

Luna put her tiny hand on Millie's huge one. "I had to. Mione is my sister."

Millie stared into Luna's eyes for a while, understanding slowly creeping into her own. "Fuck," she growled loudly after a while, drawing some looks from the other girls. She breathed heavily. "I still don't like you, Granger."

Hermione shrugged. "Sometimes I can't stand myself."

For a few seconds, silence ruled. Then, one by one, the girls started to laugh. Their roaring laughter drew much attention and they got creeped-out stares from the other students, but that didn't stop them. Sometimes life was really weird and you had to go with it.

.

Hermione and Luna hadn't even tried to get the culprits punished. The Twins had covered their tracks too well and so there was only one student who got detention: Millie for slapping a housemate. Professor Snape found her a room full of dirty cauldrons, vials and equipment to clean, mostly to calm a furious Lucius Malfoy. The detention had backfired however, when first Greg and Vince appeared to help her, a couple of female Slytherins following their lead a bit later. Even Snape felt unable to stop this unusual show of solidarity for a housemate.

And at the next meeting with his mistress, Draco paid for the loss of self-control and of status in his house. Learning through pain was the motto of that day.

.

"Parvati," Angelina and Alicia stopped the younger Gryffindor.

"What do you want?" Parvati glared at the older girls. Their friendship with the Twins was well-known as was the boys' guilt in that evil prank.

"Tell Granger we want to help her."

"Help her with what exactly?" Parvati's eyes narrowed.

"With her revenge," Angelina hissed. Alicia simply nodded. The trio of girls shared a wicked smile.

.

The trio of Slytherins had left the party and were on their way back. Penelope, who had organized Luna's surprise birthday party while Hermione had the job of distracting her friend, had invited them as well, to Millie's surprise. Together with Vince and Greg she had been the only Slytherin present, at a party with all houses represented. The Patils had been there, naturally, Penelope and Percy, a couple of Hufflepuffs and Argus Filch with Mrs Norris, who was enjoying some treats with Crooks and Nightfall, Millie's black cat. Angelina and Alicia had shown up shortly as well to show their support – and to piss off the Twins. Hagrid had declined the invitation, regretfully. He had started to distance himself from Luna after someone – some bearded one – told him that Ron and more importantly Harry didn't like her. Harry's opinion about the matter was never heard in this.

Vince was slowly following his friend, Millie at his side while Greg walked in front of them deep in thoughts. He had been quarrelling with himself for a while, struggling with a question he wanted to ask. Now, with Valentine only a few days away, he had no more time to lose.

"Millie?" His voice was a little meekly. Vince coughed slightly. "Millie?"

The girl stopped and turned around, frowning a little. "Yes?"

"Would you … err."

"Would I what?"

Vince paled. It was even more difficult than expected. "Would you be my Valentine?"

Millie blinked. She glanced down the corridor towards Greg. The boy hadn't noticed their stop and continued on his way. Millie sighed and her expression was wistful. Vince felt his stomach clench. "He didn't ask her," Vince said with a low voice. _Perhaps he'll ask you_ , was left unspoken. Both knew it wouldn't happen. Actually, Greg had stirred Vince to be courageous and to ask her out. It was one of the reasons why Vince didn't hate him, simply couldn't hate him. "Perhaps…," Vince started, only to be interrupted by Millie.

"Yes, I'll be your Valentine, Vince."

Perhaps it was pity only. Perhaps it was Millie's despair that gave him a chance. But he was determined to make the best out of it.

.

Roaring laughter welcomed the Twins. They looked like cats, but very mangy ones, their fur showing the colours blue and bronze – the colours of House Ravenclaw. Using Parvati's mishap as a basis, Hermione and Luna had shown their genius again in preparing this variant. It helped that Hermione still had the pair of Polyjuice vials she helped brew. Luna had added a number of charms that forced the Twins to behave like cats, complete with fur licking and hair ball vomiting.

The Twins would have preferred to stay in the hospital until the potion expired. Professor Snape had denied his help, mostly because the Twins annoyed him even more than Granger and Lovegood. However, Angelina and Alicia had insisted on going through with their Valentines dates, and so the Twins not only found themselves at the centre of attention from all students but the villagers of Hogsmeade as well. Madam Puddifoot was "nice enough" to offer the quartet a table at the front window, putting down a pair of cream bowls in front of them.

No, this certainly wasn't how they imagined their Valentine's day. Going strongly on sixteen now, the boys had actually dreamt about "getting some action" and had wondered if Madam Rosmerta could be convinced to rent them a pair of rooms for the day. Now they had to endure the stares and the cackles.

And it was only the first part of the girls' revenge.

.

 _ **Vancouver (Harry Evans)**_

.

Harry was talking animatedly with his class mates about the last lesson, waiting for their next teacher to arrive. They had learned how to banish magic in a slow and careful way. Apart from Harry it had been Kerry, happy about her Raven spirit growing stronger and closer to her over the last two years, who had become the best at detecting charms and traps on objects, while Jason was the best at actually diffusing the magic without triggering it. Harry had shown a different talent and was eager to improve it. He was really good at anchoring magic into an object, especially those created out of wood or furs. His charms were really hard to banish. They behaved like they were a natural part of the objects. His teacher assumed it had to do with his spirit animal and his strong affinity with wood. They would continue training on it but for now it was healing time.

Healer Marjenka entered the class and a smile split Harry's face. She had been replacing their usual teacher for a couple of weeks now. While Marjenka wasn't the best teacher with her tendency to get easily distracted, Harry liked her lessons very much. She knew far more about the matter than most teachers and was willing to teach them some things outside the lesson plan. Only last week she had taught them the basics of the "Detox" spell, a special kind of magic used to banish poison and other hurtful elements from the body. They had learned how to detect the signs of a couple of poisons they were likely to meet, both indoors and outdoors, before she explained the basic spell and a few special variants, which had greater effect if used competently.

" _I don't expect all of you to become a healer," she had explained. "But sometimes you are all that's within reach. If your mother gets bitten by a rattlesnake or your baby sister decides to taste some house cleanser, you will have to stay calm and help them."_

Harry wanted to continue the healing classes. While he had only mediocre talent in the healing arts, he still wanted to be prepared. To his relief, Paul had already accepted him as a pupil for some summer classes.

"Today I want you to be really attentive." She was very serious today and there wasn't even the tiniest whisper in the class. "Sometimes your abilities won't be enough. Sometimes you'll have to look for better healers to save the day. But perhaps you'll need time until this help arrives. You remember the Oxygen spell I showed you?" Everybody nodded. It had been within a special class last autumn. Originally, the spell had been developed to help Miners that got trapped under the stone, but the uses were manifold. "This spell is similar, but far more complicated. And it is very, very exhausting. Use it only when you have called for help already, when you're sure someone will arrive in time. Or when it is simply the last chance you have to save someone's life.

"The spell I'll show you is meant to keep someone stable who got hurt and is at the door of death or fast deteriorating despite your help. It provides him with oxygen, makes the organs continue their duty, all the while slowing their metabolism down. A competent healer will easily be able to slow everything down to a twentieth of the usual rhythm or even less. From you I expect a result of one fifth, perhaps one tenth if you pour a really big part of your magic into the spell and support it with some strong emotion. Three minutes of survival turn into fifteen, perhaps thirty, it may be enough for help to arrive or to get the patient to a hospital. Don't play around with this spell. Your teacher won't be happy that I taught you this." Harry noticed that her eyes were resting on him. He had no doubts that he was the main reason for this lesson.

"It is your last resort. Use it only as that."

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Greenhouse 4 (Harry Potter)**_

.

For once, Harry was on his own. The days since Valentine had been filled with endless quarrels in the tower of the Gryffindors. Many of his housemates only now realized how seriously Hermione had been injured by the troll. Yes, they had heard about it, but seeing it was quite different. Pity for Granger, shame about their own behaviour and anger towards the Weasley boys were the prevalent emotions. Angelina and Alicia had dumped the Twins the day after Valentine, threatening to castrate them should they ever do something similar. Ron had been furious, turning his rage on Harry when he dared to speak in favour of the girls. It had been the first big fight between the "brothers" since he joined the Weasleys. Harry signed. Sooner or later, he would apologize to Ron as always. But not yet, not today.

"Be more careful with those sprigs," a calm voice broke through his dark thoughts.

"Yes, Madam Longbottom," Harry blushed. He was usually more careful, but today he was distracted. Madam Sprout actually sentenced him to detention after he got into a shouting match with Ron in her class. At least they had separate detentions, and now he was helping Madam Longbottom in repotting some sprigs.

"Softly ponding the earth," she showed him. "And now water them, but not too much."

Harry grabbed the wand to his right and cast "Aguamenti." His eyes widened. The spell felt wrong, far easier than usual. It was not like forcing his magic through a drinking straw but more like a natural flow. Used to the dire effort normally accompanying every of his spells, he was shocked to see far more water drowning the plant than expected.

"Carefully I said," Madam Longbottom scolded him and forced his hand up, stopping the stream of water.

"Sorry," Harry said meekly. "I hadn't expected…" He hesitated, blinked and stared at the wand – the wand that certainly wasn't his. Why didn't he notice? There had been no warning, no rejection to his touch like the one day he had tried out Ron's wand.

"May I have my wand back?" Madam Longbottom asked, lifting a single eyebrow.

"Sure, sure, sorry," Harry hastily returned the wand.

"It's alright, no damage done."

But it was. For weeks Harry mused about the miracle of Madam Longbottom's wand and why it had worked for him far better than his own, the wand with the Phoenix feather, given to him by Ollivander.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – March**_

.

"I'll show you the power of a pureblood."

Tom frowned, watching his protégée as he prepared his fourth fight. Draco Malfoy had been a quite competent duellist so far and was well on his way to be among the three best of his year. There was no need for bragging. "Ginny" had lost her third fight. It wasn't good to draw too much attention on her and there was the slim chance of Draco recognizing her style. Harry Potter hadn't even entered his name. At least he was more realistic about his abilities than Weasley. Ginny's brother had been bragging for days about his supposed duelling talents, only to get a real mood dampener by Padma Patil taking him down without breaking a sweat. Perhaps it was better this way. With Granger and Lovegood among those 2nd years that were allowed to take part in the 3rd year's competition, there had been the very real danger of him getting seriously injured otherwise.

As expected, the Slytherins had been quite successful so far. While Crabbe and Goyle had lost their second fight against the Ravenclaws Cornfoot and Boot, Greengrass, Zabini and Tracey Davis were still kicking. And now Malfoy was facing off Bulstrode, one of the first inner Slytherin duels and a real surprise. She had been able to win her first three fights despite being the underdog in the competition, surprising her enemies again and again with some unexpected spell or move. The spells she had learned from Luna as repayment for her help, while Greg and Vince had been training her how to dodge an attack. Actually, it was more like "dodge a fist" training, but she had been able to adjust it to a magical training – far better than the boys. Now however, the Halfblood was well over her head. Despite being a bigmouth, Draco belonged to the top duellists of his year, thanks to Tom's training. He only had to keep his temper under control and to avoid showing off – or use any of the darker spells in his new repertoire.

Draco narrowed his eyes. The bitch would pay now for hurting him and humiliating him in front of his house. His mistress hadn't been happy, resulting in another round of pain for him. But now was payback time. For a while, Draco and Millie exchanged their spells, Millie mostly shielding and dodging in a calm and controlled manner, while Draco danced around and mocked her all the time. Millie was hit a few times, grazes mostly but they still hurt. And Draco's behaviour started to annoy her. A stinging hex to her foot made her jump back, cursing loudly.

"Careful, we still need the duelling floor. Try not to break it, fatso."

Millie growled and intensified her attacks, leaving her more open for counterattacks. Regretfully, Draco was able to exploit this, hitting her with a flurry of spells before disarming her with an Expelliarmus. Millie was already on the floor and Professor Flitwick signalling Malfoy the winner, as the blonde ponce attempted to follow up with one last spell. With an evil sneer on his face, he aimed at the girl and muttered "Caedo Disc…"

"Reducto!" Greg and Vince were still fumbling with their own wands as the voice of a girl stopped them and Draco was hurled back by the force of the spell. Luckily for him, the spell was only meant to interrupt and not to hurt, speed being of more importance than power.

"You're a coward, Malfoy, like your father," Hermione Granger growled. Draco, realizing who his assailant was, started to raise his wand only to stop an instant later. "Yes, just try it, Malfoy. Make my day." To her regret, he was cleverer than that. The Granger/Malfoy duel wouldn't happen today.

.

"You shouldn't have done it," Millie stated a few hours later.

"What? Defend you?" Hermione wondered. The big girl had been surprisingly calm about the matter so far, sending confused glances her way from time to time. Vince had been far more open with his gratitude, earning her a bone-breaking backslapping.

"Now you're disqualified," Millie huffed. Hermione had been disqualified by Professor Flitwick, despite his regrets, for attacking another competitor. "Had you done nothing, Malfoy would have been the one to get disqualified."

"And you would have been hit," Hermione deadpanned. "I heard the Caedo is quite painful."

"I've known worse," Millie stated calmly.

Hermione shrugged. "It was worth it. Vince wouldn't be happy about you getting hurt." Both Vince and Millie blushed. They had started to spend even more time together since Valentine. Suddenly Hermione's friendly face turned into a mask of hate. "And I don't want him to get disqualified. I want him humiliated for being such a pain in the ass." Millie shuddered a little, wondering if Granger was actually speaking about Malfoy or Weasley. "Now, Luna has a chance to get him."

"What if she isn't paired with him?"

"She will," Hermione declared confidently. "The Nargles will make sure of it."

.

A couple of days later, Hermione sent a victory grin Millie's way. It was the day of the last duels in the year one to three bracket and Luna was preparing to fight Malfoy. The blonde girl was humming happily, without a care in the world. She didn't even look his way and completely ignored his snide remarks. The only result of Malfoy's insults was making more and more of the girls present his enemy as he tried to disparage her talents, mental sanity and appearance. It was only when he said something about her mother that he got a reaction. Luna stopped humming, turned around and glared at him like he was an especially disgusting bug.

"That was stupid," Hermione declared, exploding into a broad grin.

"Why are you grinning?" Padma wondered.

"Previously Luna was only angry. Now, she is really pissed off, and he is in for a world of pain."

.

"Stupefy!" There was a thick layer of sweat on Draco's skin and his cheeks were flushed red because of the humiliation. For minutes he had tried – quite unsuccessfully – to hit the girl. Disarming and stunning spells, stinging hexes and even a pair of Caedo spells – nothing had been able to connect. Her movement was far too erratic and unpredictable. Luna had countered with spells usually unseen in a duel. There had been quite a number of cloth-changing and colouring spells, leaving the boy in bright Hawaii shorts and a muscle shirt that looked quite unfavourable with his pale skin and hairless, flat chest. His hair was a deep blue with bronze stripes, and several times he already had to dispel a small cherub that was encircling him, loudly proclaiming that "Draco is our ponce… err… prince".

"Will you stay still!" Draco hissed, sending another stinging hex Luna's way, following up with a piercing spell that was borderline for a duel such as this. Shacklebolt only didn't interrupt because Luna never was in danger of getting hit.

And then she actually did what he had wished for. Weaving a complex spell, Luna smiled a very untypical and unpleasant smile. Draco was so shocked that he reacted far too late. Luna had finished her spell and was on the move again, dodging his next attack while a fine golden powder rained down on the boy, covering his bare skin and irritating him greatly. He tried to get rid of it, despite there being no initial detectable effect. Malfoy didn't notice that Luna had again stopped moving around and was watching him closely.

"Papilio!" She singsonged, her happy voice creating dozens of multi-coloured butterflies.

"What is she doing?" Padma whisper-asked.

"Preparing the final shot," Hermione answered gleefully.

Malfoy had given up trying to get rid of the powder and looked up just as Luna finished a second spell, this one whispered not to betray her intent. The butterflies changed their colours, but otherwise nothing happened. Only Hermione had any idea what this was about. She had been helping Luna with the powder spell, but this one was Luna's own wicked creation.

"Looney," Draco sneered.

"Don't you like my butterflies?" Luna asked, her voice a little sad and disappointed. "They seem to like you." And really the butterflies, without the need of an Oppugno spell, started to fly his way. It was a nice sight but a little creepy as well. Malfoy tried to cut them down, first with single-target spells before he switched to another one that battered the butterflies with strong winds. They were surprisingly sturdy however and only increased their speed. Draco looked nervous now, glancing around for a way to escape the weird attackers. It was too little too late. Seconds later they reached him and started to settle down on his skin. With his agitation increasing by the second, Malfoy tried to get rid of them, his eyes widening in horror as he noticed how the butterflies somehow fused with the powder on his skin. One by one the butterflies vanished only to reappear as tattoos, not all of them looking like butterflies anymore but like some kind of fairy animal. Malfoy screamed like a little girl.

"Take them away, make them go away." Rubbing his skin like mad, he ran towards Shacklebolt who was speechless by the development.

"Do you forfeit?" He asked after a moment of stunned silence.

"Take it off!"

"Do you forfeit?" He asked again, glancing towards Luna who was humming again and looked carefree. All around the hall, the students watching the scene started to snicker.

"Malfoy is a real flower-girl now," someone cackled.

"I'm feeling like a butterfly," someone else warbled.

"Up, up and away," a third added.

"I forfeit, I forfeit, but take it off!" Malfoy screamed. His skin started to turn red with irritation because of the powder and his rubbing.

"Let me guess," Padma whispered with glee, as Malfoy was led away to the Hospital Wing. "This won't get off easily."

Hermione's only answer was a broad smirk. _Don't mess with the girls, Malfoy_.

.

 _ **Easter Break – The Burrow (Harry Potter)**_

.

Arthur Weasley wasn't the most politically astute man around, but even he realized that the presence of Cornelius Fudge and the photographer following him around was only thanks to Harry Potter being part of his family. Fudge's announcement of his visit had been a surprise, at least to most Weasleys. One of them however had not only expected but even arranged it. A small letter, a hint that Harry respected his work and would love to get a photo of them together, and Fudge would have been an idiot not to spring at a chance like that. A politician can never be too popular.

There had been small talk, photos and political statements, more than enough to fill the front page of the next Daily Prophet. Ron had been especially eager to get himself on the pictures. Percy had used the chance as well, feeling slightly bad for abusing Harry's celebrity status but with his NEWTs around the corner he simply couldn't miss this chance. Molly was all proud mother hen and the Twins were occupied with gathering blackmail material on everyone. And then there had been a very special tea, offered to Minister Fudge by Ginny.

"I will show him the way, Dad," she offered a wee bit later, as the tea started to make an impact. Fudge, bowling over because of his stomach cramps, nodded thankfully and followed her towards the bathroom, getting no forewarning about what would happen to him in a minute. The door closed and the last word he heard was "Imperio!".

.

It was a week later that the stunned public read the announcement about none else than Sirius Black getting a retrial.

Tom was content. Fudge had been quite weak-willed and easy to get under control. He had shown signs of older Imperio spells as well, the magic feeling similar to Draco Malfoy's. Sooner or later he would have to handle Lucius Malfoy and he already had some ideas how to accomplish it. He had been thinking about getting Bella free as well, but it would have been far more difficult than with Sirius Black. The Lord of House Black was innocent as far as he knew. His reputation, aside from the supposed betrayal and massacre, was spotless. It would be easier to use him on a political and economic level, and he hopefully wouldn't be as mad as Bella. The woman had been always been a loose cannon according to Pettigrew's memories. Certainly of use from time to time, but not a convenient tool for his current plans.

No, he needed Sirius Black. He needed the body, the reputation and the status. He wanted access to Black manor and the Black money – money he intended to increase by a healthy reparation on behalf of the Ministry. And in time, he would possess the body as well, the good looks would certainly be a welcome bonus.

Everything went slowly but according to his plans. A couple more months, a year at most, and this shameful phase of his existence would end.

.

Ginny had no idea why Tom was doing this. At least, he hadn't hurt her family so far. He mostly left them alone. And now he was even doing something good for Harry. Only she had a hunch that it wasn't for Harry at all. No, Tom wasn't one who played nice without having a secret agenda. He wanted something from Sirius Black; she only had to figure out what. For now, she had to be patient.

.

"Please!"

"Ginny" sneered at Malfoy's whining. "No," she haughtily rejected his pleas. "You deserve this. You acted too conceited and careless."

Draco continued to grovel for a while. It had been three weeks since that shameful duel. Neither Madam Pomfrey nor Professor Snape had been able to lift the charm – although he wasn't certain about his godfather. He had been smirking all too much. Instead of going home as planned, Draco had stayed at Hogwarts because he feared his father's reactions. Charms to cover the tattoos hadn't stuck because of a strange allergic reaction. The itching was driving him mad. Regretfully for him, he never thought about using Muggle makeup and so he had to run around with butterflies still covering his skin.

" _You have to apologize to Hermione to dissipate the magic, in the same place where you insulted her," had been Lovegood explanation._

Impossible. He would never apologize to a Mudblood, especially not in the Great Hall in front of everybody.

Tom wasn't impressed by his childish reaction. While he understood the boy's predicament in principle, an apology was always better than running around like this for weeks. According to his own analysis, the Charm would end in another two or three weeks. All in all, it was quite impressive. Without Lovegood's close connection to the Mudblood and her overall weirdness, he would have thought about recruiting her. She certainly had a pleasant streak of vengefulness.

"Apologize or endure," he sneered and walked away without looking back.

 _You have still much to learn, little Malfoy._

.

It was three days later that the students had the pleasure of watching a deeply humiliated Draco Malfoy apologize to one Hermione Granger in the middle of the Great Hall.

The Twins however, felt cold shivers run down their spine as Luna, before accompanying Hermione back to the Ravenclaw table, offered them her sweetest smile. _You are not forgotten_.

.

 _ **Vancouver – April 1994 (Harry Evans)**_

.

"But he isn't in our class," Jenko hissed. Harry didn't know the true name of Jason's older brother, only his nickname Jenko. Apparently, the older boy thought it to be cool or something. Jenko had never been a fan of Harry, the reason not comprehensible to him. "He's not even our year." It certainly didn't help that Jenko didn't belong to this class either. He was two years Harry's senior and had to repeat it because he failed last year's exam. But instead of doing his best to use his second chance and perhaps try to befriend some of the other, more talented students, he behaved like he didn't care, like he was the Spirits' gift to humankind.

"Shut up!" Malcolm stated, more than a little annoyed by Jenko's behaviour. He loved the woodcraft lessons and this child tried to spoil them. He continued to fondle Floe, who was accompanying Harry as usual. Malcolm was Marian's younger cousin and a big fan of Floe since he rescued her. "Harry is here because Grey Bear told our teacher to give him a try. Do you really think you know better than him?" Grey Bear was the nickname of Paul Masterson and mentioning him was enough to silence Jenko at last, even if he continued to glare at Harry.

"Thanks," Harry whispered. For a moment he had felt his ire grow because of the antagonizing boy. Every time he felt his angry side raise its ugly head, he had to fight it. It got easier with each passing year, the presence of his family helping to get it under control and to follow more positive emotions. It was easy to trust and to love with people like Remus and Michiko, Paul and prominently Jenny around. But it didn't mean his darker side was completely gone. It was only in hiding, sleeping and waiting for a chance to come up.

Malcolm shrugged with a grin. "Marian told me you're really good at these woodcraft spells. I want to see you in action."

Harry sighed. "Dad didn't allow me to take the full class in addition to everything else. But if your teacher says yes, I'll take the exam with you in two months."

"And you think you're good enough?" Malcolm, despite his support had his doubts. Nobody could be that good: missing two years of classes and take the exam one year early was astounding.

"I had a couple of lessons with Paul. The rest I learned in my spare time. Luckily, I had enough of the theory in Foresting. You know, about what kind of wood we handle and its properties. I only need a B in the practical part for the senior high admittance."

"Only a B," Malcom cackled.

"Yeah," Harry grinned, feeling more afraid to fail than he wanted to admit _. You can do this, little brother_ , he heard Jenny's voice. _I believe in you_.

 _I'll do my best._

.

"Get one log and begin," Mr. Isles calmly ordered sometimes later after explaining the goal of today's interim audit. The woodcraft teacher looked a little like a constipated beaver, nothing like your typical picture of "the man from the woods". But according to Paul he really knew his stuff. Mr. Isles pointed towards the place where dozens of logs were waiting for the students. Choosing the right one was the first part of the exam. Moving it to the workstation was the second. The logs were too heavy to be carried around by hand and Harry wasn't allowed to use his Adept powers today.

Staring at the logs for a moment, he closed his eyes and tried to relax. While most others choose their log by visible or tactile examination only, he had to feel the wood with his magic. This one was too brash, only useful for a weapon. This one was hateful; the tree fell before its time. This one was merry and sportive, certainly appropriate if he wanted to craft something for his sister. However, he wanted to go with his Spirit today, with The Wolf. Over there, one of the logs was whispering to him. Opening his eyes again, he walked towards the log and gently caressed it. _You're the right one, my friend_.

Most of the other had already started to move their logs towards the working stations. Malcolm used a wood-dancing spell, quite impressive to watch. The log, with a weight well above eighty pounds, moved on its own, with a dozen small feet growing from its bark. Harry smiled. It could have been expected for Marian's cousin to master the difficult spell usually only taught in senior high. Apparently, he was as studious as his cousin. Harry brought his breath under control, ignoring the other students. The spirits of the wind were close. He could feel them. They liked to move around the trees of British Columbia, loved to rustle the leaves and to bend the sprigs and branches. Today they would do something different. They would help him to move a log, and object normally not meant to be moved around in the air outside of during the strongest of storms.

In Hogwarts he would have learned the _Wingiardum Leviosa_ spell years ago. It was only meant to move a small object up and down. While older students learned to move a heavier object, it was still only used for vertical motion, never horizontal one. They needed a different spell for that, _Mobilicorpus_. The air floating spell worked different than both. Harry had to stay close and be utterly concentrated during the whole process. On the other hand, it allowed him to move an object like this through the air, slowly but steadily. Most of the other students chose a less difficult path, moving their log only a couple of inches above the ground, allowing them to set it down from time to time to recover. Only a handful did the same as Harry, in Mr. Isles eyes another proof that Grey Bear had been right about the boy's talent. And then there was the link between log and boy, clearly visible to him. Harry had chosen well. He was eager to see what Harry would create out of it.

.

"It's alright, Jenko," Mr. Isles commented the work an hour later. "This will do in your exam. Keep up the good work." While the statue of a proud warrior wasn't very lifelike or the work of an artisan, it would be enough for the boy to pass the exam. Usually, Mr. Isles tried to further his students in a stronger way, but he had accepted months ago that the boy wasn't willing to put real work into this. He expected everything to drop into his lap and whined if others who worked harder did get better results. Whatever career he later chose, Mr. Isles feared he would be a pain in the ass for his instructor.

Malcolm had chosen a different theme. It got him some teasing from the other boys, but more than one appreciative glance from the girls. The doe was very well crafted, the watcher getting the impression of a mother taking care of its child. And the fawn, timidly hiding behind its mother, was a real piece of art. Had he wanted to sell it, he would certainly fetch good money from one of the tourists. It was nearly too good to be given away, only to have it standing in some Californian garden.

"Excellent work, Malcom. Really good."

"Thank you," he smiled, before sighing deeply. "But how can I compare to that?"

Harry didn't notice the attention he got from the others, or how the sight creeped out more than one of the students. He was far too concentrated on his work. The Wolf looked like he wanted to move any second. He didn't stand still because he was a dead piece of wood, but because he was watching his prey. The Wolf was unmoving only to deceive its prey, seconds away from exploding into a sprint, its muscled legs hurling the wolf towards the prey before its mighty jaws clamped down, fulfilling its duty as the hunter of the woods. With a talent like this, the boy wouldn't have any troubles to make the exam. And Mr. Isles eagerly anticipated the lessons he could give Harry when in senior high.

"Some of us are destined to go farther than the rest of us, Malcom," he calmly replied. "And Harry is one of those. Don't let it spoil your success."

"I'll try," Malcom responded a little dejectedly. He watched Harry for a moment. "It helps that he isn't conceited about it."

"No, he isn't," Mr. Isles agreed. Watching Harry, who was now sitting in front of The Wolf and staring into its eyes as if silently talking with him, he repeated with a wistful smile on his lips. "Some of us are destined to go further than the rest of us." _And Paul Masterson knew it years ago_.

.

 _ **St. Mungo's Hospital – June 1994**_

.

The school year was nearing its end. April and May passed, mostly without any greater troubles. After Susan Bones won the duel competition in the year one to three bracket – her final against Padma Patil had been a real show – the final of the fifth year had restored Slytherin's honour with Adrian Pucey winning against Angelina Johnson, who proved to be a sour loser. She would be Quidditch team captain next year and some of her team comrades already feared her competition drive and what it meant for their training time. The final of the seventh year had been unlike the others. There was no frenzy, no bickering and certainly no will to hurt the opponent. It was more like a training session about two different approaches to the fight. With a wide repertoire of spells and a clever use of many different tactics, Percy Weasley seemed to be more interested in showing his schoolmates what was possible with the spells taught at Hogwarts. Oliver Wood on the other hand had a far narrower selection of spells, depending more on his agility and stubbornness to go on despite his exhaustion. In the end, calm resolve won over hot-headedness and the victory kiss he got from Penelope Clearwater, whose scarf he had been wearing like some medieval knight, proved to everybody how much Percy had changed from the stick-in-the-ass Prefect he had been two year ago.

Now the school year was ending. This week held the last exams and the students would soon depart to go home. It was about time to make a visit. Albus Dumbledore entered the room and waited for the healer to depart before he greeted his patient. Sirius Black looked better than expected. After a decade of Azkaban, Albus had feared to meet a mad excuse of his former student. However, the eyes, while certainly showing that the last years hadn't been easy on him, betrayed no madness. It made the visit both easier and more difficult. Hearing about Fudge's sudden interest in the man had been like a kick in the gut. At first, he had feared Lucius Malfoy having a part in it. But dear Lucius' surprise seemed to be genuine. Perhaps it was bad luck only. Now, it was time for a little damage control.

"Hello Sirius. Good to see you."

"Hello Albus," Sirius greeted him, his eyes narrowing slightly. He sat up a little and looked around, searching for other visitors accompanying Albus.

"Harry has to stay at school for a couple more days," Albus said, recognizing the man's wish. "He'll certainly visit you next week." _After I assured that you'll not betray my little secret_.

"How is he doing?"

"Good, good. Missing his parents, but otherwise alright I think. Well-cared for and beloved. He's living with the Weasleys. Ron Weasley is his age and a real brother to him. And I think there something growing between Harry and the youngest Weasley, Ginny."

"Oh," Sirius smiled for a moment, before turning thoughtful. "I only assumed…"

"Yes?"

"I thought, he would live with Remus."

Albus sighed. "Regretfully that wasn't possible."

Sirius frowned. "Because of his furry little problem?"

"That could have caused a problem," Albus admitted. "However, the more important reason was that he vanished right after your imprisonment. Your supposed betrayal was too much for him." A little guilty conscience and remorse was always helpful in manipulating people.

"And he never returned?"

"No," Albus shook his head. "But now, let's talk about Harry and your future part in his life." _And about your memories of him_ , Albus silently added. It wouldn't do if Sirius met Harry for the first time only to screech about the boy's wrong eye colour. No, that wouldn't help in the least. But that was what memory charms were for. Albus smiled benevolently.

.

An hour later, he left the hospital and returned to Hogwarts, secure in the knowledge that Sirius would neither betray his little secret nor complain about Harry continuing his stay with the Weasleys. He didn't know of how much use the man would be in the future, but neither would he hinder Albus' plans.

He had no idea how far his thoughts were from the truth.

.

 _ **A/N**_

 _Next chapter: The Summer of 1994._

 _And after that we'll return to the main part and Harry Evans meeting Harry Potter._


	9. Chapter 9 Summer of 1994

_**A/N**_

 _This chapter will be a shorter one, describing the events of the summer of 1994, just before the Tri Wizard Tournament._

 _Please remember that I don't have more than a passing idea of Karate. So, the first part of this chapter may actually be nonsense._

 **.**

 **Summer of 1994**

.

 _ **Toronto – End of June 1994**_

.

Watching Jenny perform her Katas had always been a vision of gracefulness, elegance and perfection. The Katas she had to perform in front of her examination committee did not allow the slightest deviation from the expected sequence. Michiko was watching her daughter and pupil with hawk eyes. Because of the importance of the examination – Jenny hoped to achieve her first Dan in Karate today – she wasn't allowed to take her exam in Vancouver but had to go to Toronto instead. Her whole family and a couple of other students had accompanied her, some of them for their own exams. Takado Azuke was there as well, not as her future dance academy headmaster but rather as a member of the national Karate committee of Japan and former Sensei of her mother.

"Faultless," had been Michiko's single-word-comment on that part, causing immense relief among Jenny's friends. Hopefully, with the first part well done it would help her relax a bit for the rest.

The second part of her exam allowed Jenny more freedom. Lucia, a twenty-two year old student of Michiko who would attempt to gain her third Dan on the afternoon, was assisting Jenny with her Bunkai. The aim was to prove not only her ability to perform Katas but also her deep understanding of them. Weaving one sequence into the next, coupling them with her own ideas and artistic streak, was what Bunkai was about. Jenny's performance earned her some approving looks from her judges and the audience. Breathing, concentration, presence of mind, timing and her understanding of the partner were equally important. Azuke showed no emotion though. There was no approving nod this time, but he whispered with the lead examiner, who looked first surprised approved his comment.

"She deviated from the prepared sequence," Michiko drily commented as Jenny went through her last motions.

"Is this good or bad?"

Michiko looked thoughtful. "Good I guess. It looked more natural this way, less rehearsed. However, the examiners certainly noticed it, and they are a notoriously conservative bunch. We'll have to wait and see."

After a few minutes of rest, it was time for Jenny's Kumite. She had to fight one of the examiners, proving her ability to attack and to defend herself against a more skilled opponent. Usually, the sequence was fixed, with Jenny first attacking five times, before she had to defend herself for another five times. Today, however, the committee had something different in mind.

"What the hell," Michiko hissed, as Jenny's sparring partner approached her daughter. It was none less than Takado Azuke himself. The announcement _Jiyu-Kumite_ – free fight – only added to her shock, a feeling that Jenny obviously shared. Jiyu was usually associated with tournaments, not examinations.

"She has no chance to win this fight," Harry growled, his fists clenching as he felt the urge to help his sister – not that his presence would make any difference. Two months ago, he had passed his exam for the 1st Kyu. He had to wait at least another two years before he would be allowed to even attempt the 1st Dan exam. And the actual difference between the siblings was far greater because of Jenny's innate talent and intense training, as she wasn't boggled down with additional shaman training like Harry. Secretly, Harry felt a little insulted that those examiners dared to test his sister instead of simply handing her black belt out. He narrowed his eyes and willed his sister to gather her inner peace, to overcome her fear in face of her new terrifying opponent.

"It's not about winning," Remus calmly explained. "It's about overcoming the respect and awe she feels right now. It's about not succumbing to the emotion of helplessness against overwhelming odds."

"It's still unfair. The others don't get such an opponent."

"The others didn't get such a _chance_ ," Michiko agreed with Remus' estimation and put a calming hand on Harry's arm. This fight only made sense if the examiners had already decided in favour of Jenny. This Kumite was far beyond the examination. She noticed how Jenny glanced in their direction for a second, sending Harry a tiny smile. Jenny would give her best in the coming fight.

The audience was really in for an interesting show.

.

"Only one year left," a depressed sigh escaped Harry's lips and he snuggled into his sister's side.

They were on their way back to Vancouver. Harry still had Jenny's brand sparkling new black belt in his fist and was careful not to hug her too closely. Jenny had a couple of bruises from her fight, as Azuke had gone "half-contact" at the end of the fight, landing a couple of strong hits on her to get a guess about her reactions and willingness to go on. Instead of cowering away, Jenny had only sped up and returned the favour, even hitting him three times. In the end, Azuke had accepted her as his Karate student and offered for her to visit his dance academy. He had done the same with Michiko nearly twenty years ago. Now Jenny would follow her mother's footsteps.

"We'll make the most out of that year," Jenny returned the hug.

Like Harry she hated the idea of being separated, but this chance was simply incredible. And she had earned it honourably. Michiko may have opened the door with her old contacts, but it had been Jenny's performance alone that convinced the old man. She only hoped that he wasn't as much of a wisecracker as David Carradine's teacher in that Kung Fu series, always preaching and philosophizing. Jenny loved the action, to feel her body move and to test and break her limits, not to endlessly speak about the sense of life and that "with great might come great responsibility" nonsense. Michiko usually smiled wistfully when Jenny spoke about those concerns, always mumbling something about youth.

"Do you think they'll have a tournament team?" Harry wondered.

"They even have an Adept team, but I can't enter before I've been at the academy for at least six months."

One year ago, Jenny got an invitation to join the Canadian Junior team – the Muggle team to be exact. She declined mostly because it would have been unfair as a magic-bearer and she wasn't certain she would always be able to suppress her Adept powers in a fight. It was too dangerous as well. Even a kick of hers at half strength could break bones in an opponent not trained in the Way of the Adept. You saw those pictures of a Martial Arts Master breaking an inch-thick piece of wood? Harry knew that was kid stuff for his big sister. He absolutely adored her and he equally strongly hated the idea of seeing her gone to Japan. However, he would always support her. Love, both the romantic one and that between siblings, was about what is best for the other person. At least, that's what Michiko had told him. Now he only had to convince himself of that fact.

.

 _ **The Burrow – 31**_ _ **st**_ _ **of July (Harry Potter)**_

.

None of the guests present had the slightest hunch that this would turn out to be the last birthday party in this composition. None of them would have ever dreamed of the events that would take place a mere three months, nor how it would change the way they saw the boy currently known to them as Harry Potter.

The place was crowded, even more so than usual. Naturally, the whole Weasley clan was present to celebrate Harry's 14th birthday, with a couple of add-ins like Aunt Muriel thrown into the mix. Albus Dumbledore and a few other teachers and friends of the family were there as well, only Parvati Patil was missing notably. Augusta Longbottom had declined the invitation to spend the day with her daughter-in-law, who had been seen in a bleak mood all week. Actually, their absence wasn't unwelcome news to Albus as he had no wish of being reminded of "Harry's" true nature on this day.

Against his own wishes but following Molly's demands, Arthur had invited a couple of colleagues from the Ministry as well, led by jovial Minister Fudge and hounded by a bunch of journalists. The birthday party would certainly be the talk of the masses until the Quidditch finals. It really was a great day – for Ron Weasley at least if not for the birthday boy. He would see Viktor Krum in action, and with Harry unwilling to leave the ground it would be his brotherly duty to use the Firebolt Sirius gifted his godson in his stead.

Yes, Sirius had turned up as well. His trial went surprisingly smoothly, after he made his statement – under Veritaserum – about the events of Halloween 1981 and proved that Peter Pettigrew had been the real culprit. There had been much talk about Pettigrew's death. Some believed he had committed suicide, but most assumed he had simply tried to get away with that blasting curse and gotten caught up in the explosion. There had never been a photo taken of Scabbers and with the rat vanishing months ago even Ron didn't speak about it anymore, so Sirius had no idea that Pettigrew was still around. Even Sirius had no doubt about the traitor's death and only wanted to recover and forget. He was still ailing from his stunt in Azkaban, but was slowly getting better. He was happy to see his godson again after all those years, and while Albus had watched the encounter closely, there had been no hint of Sirius realizing something was wrong about Harry.

The party went on. Everything was alright and the future looked bright to everyone.

.

It looked especially bright for one red-haired girl that stayed close to Harry the whole time, sipping her punch and smiling sweetly. Nobody knew that the smile mostly held amusement from Tom towards the real Ginny's futile attempts to get her body or at least her mouth under control. She wanted to scream, to cry, to do anything… But nothing worked. She had to endure and to watch. And she had to share the Tom's feeling of contentment.

Everything was going without a hitch. Sirius Black was free and respected. He was more lucid than expected, his body recovering from the ordeal. As commanded to Fudge, the compensation payment had been very generous, adding to the already impressive Black wealth. Many of his old friends were obviously ashamed of their former opinions, and the phrase "I never really believed those accusations" could be heard more than once. The same people that had condemned Black a decade ago now tried to get back into his good graces, often blaming Albus Dumbledore for their own stupidity. This status of bad conscience could turn out being very useful for Tom, especially when Sirius Black started to move on politically.

 _Soon, very soon_ , "Ginny" smiled while acting as Harry's confident. A couple of hints had been enough to convince the journalists of her status as the boy-who-lived's girlfriend. Tom had never expected how much he would like this charade. Sometimes he wondered if it was – at least in parts – Ginny's soul that influenced him. Or perhaps her teenager body was sending signals. In the end, it wasn't important. In a few months he would perform the ritual, sending his soul into Black's body and recovering his former magical strength. He expected Ginny to die in the process and Pettigrew, the only one in the know about this phase of his existence, would have a deadly accident soon afterwards. Only Malfoy would be allowed to survive – for now.

It would be easy to get him into a position that would further Tom's plans. Lucius' death was a given, and with the boy having a clean slate and his father's money, he only had to turn seventeen and finish his NEWTs before donning the mantle of lordship to him. Until then Tom had enough to do. He would reinstate Andromeda into the Black family. While he hated her for her betrayal of the pureblood dogma, it would certainly make Narcissa happy and quench any doubts about Sirius being a "good man". The last time, as he knew from the history books and Pettigrew's memories, his attempts at getting rid of Mudbloods had been too aggressive. Just like Umbridge today with her anti Werewolf legislative, he had been on the war-path all too openly in the past.

No, this time it would be done in a calmer, more sedated way. "Muggleborn Protection Act" had a far better ring. With a smaller group of political allies, many of them not even in the know about his real plans, he wouldn't have to entertain the more blood-thirsty part of his organization with senseless raids. Merlin, he was immortal, was he not? He didn't have to rush his plans in the spade of five or even ten years. Slowly but steadily, he would win the public with a smile and a generous money pouch as well as a beautiful woman at his side. The public loved dream couples. It was time to think about his future bride.

.

The guest of honour was the only one who didn't really enjoy the party. He hated the attention, the false friendliness and the pretence he was meeting everywhere. None of them would try to be his friend if he weren't the boy-who-lived. None of them accepted him for who he really was. Not even Ron liked the real Harry, he knew that.

He glanced in his adoptive sister's direction. Harry wasn't certain that he liked her all that much. Ginny had changed a lot since her first school year. Something happened to her, what he didn't know. She got moodier, prone to lashing out and more often than not she obviously had to struggle with her short temper and lack of patience. Officially she was now his girlfriend. Not that they really acted that way or that he had ever asked her out. There certainly was no PDA to watch. It was only to keep the fangirls away, as she had explained to him. At least Ron and Molly were happy. Arthur was watching them thoughtfully from time to time, like he didn't believe their statements.

Harry suppressed a sigh. Sometimes he wondered whether it was all worth. How would his life be without the boy-who-lived nonsense? With nobody expecting him to be the hero he never wanted to be? They all expected great things from him. Why? He was only a small boy without any talents. More than once he had noticed Headmaster Dumbledore's disappointed look his way. He hated it. He hated the public. He only wanted to be in peace with his plants.

 _Piss off! All of you._

.

Sirius Black had said his goodbye and was on his way back home. He was a little tipsy, still being unused to alcohol after so long. Someone, perhaps the Twins, had also been spiking the punch. And it may very well have been that sister of theirs telling them to do so. They certainly hadn't complained and complied quickly. Swaying a little, Sirius left the warded grounds. He was happy. Free of his prison cell, his godson around and the trial turning him into an honourable man, he was able to really live again. Sirius had many plans. Harry was on the top of his list, Andromeda being a close second. And after that: many drinks and a string of women – beautiful and buxom women. Blonde, brunette or black-haired, he had no biases about that. He would only always avoid the red-haired highly intelligent ones. He never understood James' enthusiasm about Lily Evans. Women had to be malleable, adoring and certainly no bookworms. Spirited was alright, but bossy was a no-go.

Reaching the edge of the Weasley grounds, Sirius halted his steps, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. The world was wonderful. He never heard the whispered spell that connected with his back, sending him into gracious blackness.

.

 _ **Kutenai Village – one week later**_

.

"Have you seen this?"

Michiko pushed the newspaper under his nose. Remus gulped as he noticed the big photo and the headline. "Lord Sirius Black proven innocent in a shocking trial – celebrates his godson's birthday". Sirius was visible, looking a little haggard but better than expected, surrounded by a whole crowd of redheads and a benevolently smiling Albus Dumbledore, looking like a grandfather bringing candies. There had already been some other articles over the last few weeks, describing the upcoming trial. Remus had been surprised at first, struggling with the idea of going back to watch Sirius' statement in person. After Lily's death, he had never been able to completely convince himself of Sirius' guilt. While Black had never been a fan of Lily's and drifted away from Remus in the end, he had been always too close to James to betray him. _Why did you help Voldemort murder him?_ _What could have convinced you to betray a decade of friendship?_ That had been the main question then. Now, he was back, proven innocent and free.

"It's time to meet him in person, don't you think?" Michiko asked. She was calmer today, appealing to his conscience and the guilt he felt. There had been other discussions in the past, louder and more aggressive ones, with Michiko heatedly telling him that Harry – both the real and the pretend one – deserved the truth. She had been convinced that he had to go back and speak with some of his former friends. In her eyes it wasn't right how they treated "their" Harry. He had never complied with her wishes – until now. Lily and the promise he once vowed had been too important for him. He didn't want to risk anybody finding out about the real Harry. They would try to get him back under control, and while he felt pity for the other boy, Harry was now his son.

This however changed everything. He had to be careful, especially about what he told Sirius. _I'll have to think about a story to tell him, about what I did while he was in Azkaban_. For now he wouldn't tell him about the two Harrys. And he would keep away from Albus and his Order pets. No, he wouldn't rush in. But perhaps it was time for a little visit.

.

 _ **Diagon Alley**_

.

It was more difficult than expected to find the books she was looking for. There wasn't much reading material about Runes and Potions for absolute beginners. Apparently, everybody assumed you to had someone to show you the ropes, some teacher or at least a parent. And absolutely nobody felt the urge to write something meant for the use by Squibs. Hiding them and remain absolutely silent about the matter was the motto of the magical world. Equal rights, integration and encouragement, those were still foreign concepts to this backwater society. As Parvati had told her, even the Weasleys – supposed fighters of the light and defenders of Muggleborn – didn't speak of their family squib. He was a matter of shame and they were quite happy to forget about him. Other families even killed their Squibs in "sad accidents" that took care of the problem. Absolutely nobody wanted to do something to better their lot in life.

Hermione sighed and put the books back onto the shelf. Most of the potion receipts demanded more magic than Argus Filch was able to perform. There were only a handful of potions a Squib could actually brew. She had thought about assisting him with a rune array, something to strengthen his magic while brewing or to allow him to store magic, like a battery. He could charge it over a longer time and use the magic for stronger potions. There were a couple of low-magic items as well, mostly little household helpers, self-sweeping brooms and such things. Perhaps that was a way. It wouldn't be perfect, but Argus was happy about everything he could get his hands on. It wasn't even about making his job easier. Argus simply loved doing anything magical. He had softened a little since his cat had been unpetrified. Luna had been right back then. Hermione had been more than happy to learn that Mrs Norris had been freed first both because it was about a cat and that she hated the idea of Argus's plight being seen as less important somehow. She had been touched by the crowd-funding event organized by her schoolmates and thanked them profusely. Without them she would have stayed a living statue for weeks, perhaps even months.

Last year Luna and she had tried to help Argus with his magic. They even tried to get him a wand of his own, the idea being that a perfect match would allow him to cast weaker spells or channel more magic into his potions. To say that Ollivander hadn't been helpful would have been an understatement. Perhaps there were other wandmakers around, more willing to help. Hermione left the shop. She couldn't wait for school to start again. Professor Babbling – yes, she would speak with Professor Babbling about this. There had to be a way to help Argus, there simply had to.

Hermione was on a crusade and she wouldn't allow anybody to stop her.

.

 _ **Leaky Cauldron - Same time**_

.

"Sirius" was immensely enjoying himself. Wizards and Witches were buzzing around him like bees near a honey pot. He had a brunette with adoring eyes hanging onto his arm, Mary Whatsit. Lord Nott, father of deceased Theo Nott – "he died far too young" – was nagging him with some sad story about how his son was only a wrongly-blamed victim in some ominous plan of Headmaster Dumbledore. "Sirius" was amused, as he knew who the real culprit behind that death case was – his master.

But despite the black flowing mane, the teeth – again perfect and sparkling after some magical correction – and ignoring the groping of every lady within reach, this wasn't really Sirius Black. The real Sirius was a guest in his own house, guarded by his mother's painting, both prisoner and warden filling the room with endless screaming and cursing. Kreacher the house elf had actually fought them as they entered and searched the house, mumbling some nonsense about his master's last wish. It hadn't stopped them for long and now he was part of the gallery of late house elves' heads. His master had been exuberant, his profound thanks just along what Pettigrew would have wished for.

His new duty wasn't a duty per se, more of an endless stream of rewards, as he had to run around mimicking Sirius Black, enjoying his life and spending quite some money on drinks and women. The only drawback was the burden of taking care of the real Sirius' health. As the Polyjuice mimicked the appearance of the affected person at the moment his hair got harvested, he had to ensure that his prisoner got healthier over time. It wouldn't do to look like fresh out of Azkaban months after his release. Aside from this little black mark, he really enjoyed his new job.

"Albus Dumbledore was once a great man," Sirius stated with a little sadness in his voice. "Fifteen years ago I would have trusted him with my life."

"But not anymore?" Nott wondered not certain whether he could believe this change of hearts.

"No," Sirius sighed. "Too much has changed since then."

"I have to admit, I was a little surprised about your falling out." Dozens of people had watched the show, the shouting match in the middle of the street, with Sirius asking some very awkward questions – questions Dumbledore had no satisfying answer to.

"He let me rot in Azkaban," Sirius explained. "He was Chief Warlock all this time, had the power to enforce a trial. And now I'm only free because the Minister heard about my plight."

His newfound friendship with Minister Fudge had been one of the many ongoing changes. Lucius was fighting to keep his old position, but was rapidly losing ground. After his trial, Sirius' reputation had skyrocket, and a few hints about Lucius Malfoy and his Death Eater history had been enough to send him spiralling down the social ladder. Most neutrals had become Sirius' fans. Among the light fraction the opinions were split because he was no Dumbledorian anymore. And the darker families slowly succumbed to his arguments – at least the cleverer ones like Nott now.

"Understandable," Nott heartily agreed.

"Even the greatest man can only do so much," Sirius continued. "He's overextending himself. I mean, think about it. He's headmaster of Hogwarts, Chief Warlock and has a seat on the ICW. That's simply too much. Too much work, too much power, too much everything for one man. No mortal should preside over all of those duties at the same time. The last years have been proof of that more than once." The silent message was: _another headmaster would have prevented your son's death_.

Before the conversation ended, Sirius was certain he got another supporter in his "Less-jobs-for-Albus" crusade. His master would be proud.

.

 _ **Forest near the Kutenai Village – middle of August**_

.

"I know the berg crystal is not the most precious of stones," Paul calmly explained. "But it is widely used in our healing arts. As an amplifier of purification and cleansing it strengthens one's vitality and the immune system. It's especially helpful to cure paralysis, burns and difficult wounds." He showed Harry a two inches long, half an inch broad and barely a quarter inch thick crystal shaped like a little finger. It was very clear with only a hint of whiteness. "We'll use this crystal as the centre of your healing focus."

Harry was listening intently to his tutor. For the past weeks they had met three times a week, with Paul showing him how to heal injuries typically used in fights. Cutting curse, Reducto and Drilling spell were high on his list as well as the Incendio and some spell to freeze a body. Dark Curses were a different matter and nothing Paul wanted to teach him for another year.

"How should I carry around the finished crystal?" Harry knew that he would have to keep the crystal on his person on all times if he wanted the focus to be of any use, both to have it on hand and because his magic would continue to seep into the stone and strengthen it further. Foci were something the Kutenai had used for centuries, both to enhance weaker talents and to boost the strongest specialties. His talent with healing spells was quite limited, but the healing focus would at least strengthen the few spells he knew. And Paul had offered to engrave a Rune for a last ditch effort, to empower a stabilized spell cast by Harry.

"I thought about the bracelet, the one Jenny crafted for you." Harry smiled. It was a pair of bracelets he got from his sister, but most of the time he only wore one of them on his right wrist, as he liked to carry a knife of some sort in a hidden sheath on the left. When he started using a wand, it would be the place for his hidden wand sheath.

"I would like that."

"Alright. Now we have to gather the necessary herbs, to powder some stones and convince your mum to relinquish some of those wild bee wax candles to us and we'll be ready for our ritual."

"You think I'm ready for this?"

"I've no doubt." Paul put his hand on Harry's shoulder, feeling a little guilty for not being absolutely honest. While he really thought Harry to be ready to create a first smaller focus, he was in a hurry as well. He didn't know what would happen to Harry. Spirits, he assumed. Even Martin didn't really know. But one thing was clear from the visions they both got this summer. Harry had to be prepared before the year ended. And they would do their best, without frightening or overtaxing the boy. Hopefully, it would be enough.

.

 _ **Grimmauld Place 12**_

.

"Hello Sirius."

Sirius blinked. He hadn't expected to see _this_ visitor knocking on his door. Pettigrew wasn't sure how to react. What would his master want him to do? Remus Lupin waited patiently. It was no surprise that Sirius was shocked to see him. He looked far better than on the photos in the newspaper. His after shave was a bit strong and there was some alcohol in his breath despite the early hour. He had also started to smoke again apparently, something he had given up just before Harry's birth.

"May I enter?"

Sirius nodded, still a little dumbfounded and stepped aside. He led his guest into the parlour and offered him a drink, more to give himself time to think about a tactic.

"Wasn't expecting to see you, Remmy." It had been their nickname of the Wolf back then – a nickname Remus had hated profusely.

"I saw your picture in the newspaper and heard about your trial." Remus silently played with his glass. He sighed deeply. "I'm sorry… for not believing in you. I should have known that Peter was the traitor. He was always a rat." Looking down, he didn't notice Sirius' death glare drilling holes into his head.

"It's alright. You were hardly the only one believing the worst of me," Sirius appeased him. "For a while I hoped for Albus' intervention but when it didn't come…"

For a moment the thought of telling him about the pretend Harry flickered through Remus' mind, but something made him stay silent about the matter. "We all expected different from him. But he apparently only cared for Harry." He looked up, searching for hints of Sirius guessing the truth.

Sirius' eyes flickered shortly, before he forced a smile. "Yes, Harry. It's good to have him back."

"Have you met him?"

"I was at his birthday party," Sirius nodded. "He looked good. A little too calm, but not everyone can be a James." He sounded wrong. It was a little disturbing for Remus. In his mind there was only one explanation: Dumbledore had messed with his mind. Otherwise he certainly would have noticed the Harry living with the Weasleys was not the real one.

It was this moment that turned out to be decisive in how he handled his former friend. If Dumbledore was willing to memory charm Sirius, what else was he willing to do? Remus was not ready to fight Dumbledore, not now with the headmaster holding all the aces in his hand. He had to be careful. He would stick to his story about living in Australia. And he would return home in a few days. For now, Dumbledore had won the game. In a few years, with Harry a legal adult, he would return.

"To James and Lily," Remus lifted his glass.

"To James and Lily," Sirius responded.

.

"You did well," his master told him the next day.

"I wondered whether he could be an asset for your cause, master."

"No," Tom shook his head. "He has no connections to the British Werewolf community and he seems to be a steadfast supporter of the light, despite his doubts about Dumbledore. He can't be trusted and could prove to be more of a hindrance than he is worth. Better to send him back to his hiding hole and have him out of the picture."

.

 _ **Granger House – late August**_

.

"Do you girls need anything?" Emma Granger asked, setting down a plate with cookies, orange juice and the obligatory bowl of chocolate pudding. Her husband was talking downstairs with Xeno Lovegood and she was happy to escape for a few minutes. She liked Xeno, she really did, but he was exhausting sometimes. It was a little like having a hyperactive child around – without any medication. Not that she believed in such things. In her mind, a hyperactive child had to be entertained with ways to get rid of that surplus energy, not drugged. However, she understood parents who felt overchallenged and in the end she only got "bystander knowledge".

Hermione had been an easy child to rear, easily distractible with a book. The only challenge had been getting her out of the house from time to time. More than once they had to strike a deal. _Go to the park for an hour then you can read again_. And more than once as well, her little girl had returned from the park in tears because of the other children. So much had changed since then. Hermione was more self-confident now. Luna was far better at keeping her outdoors, with the girls hunting for some mythical creature now and then or looking for some plant Emma had never heard about. Not that the blonde girl didn't possess an impressive knowledge of Zoology and Botany as well. Emma's sunflowers were growing far better since she listened to the girl's advice.

Hermione would turn fifteen in a month. At her age, Emma had already been dating a few boys. She had been a real party girl before she met Dan. It had been a wild few years. She had told Hermione about those years, about the cigarettes, the alcohol and even the drugs. Nothing too bad, but it hadn't been her cleverest move back then to borrow her uncle's car, a bottle of vodka under her arm and some joints fresh from a school "friend". Emma had been lucky then and got away with only a broken leg and one hundred hours of social service. It was there she met Dan Granger, the older boy not very impressed by her antics – despite staring at her arse whenever he thought she wasn't looking. She had learned from her experience and convinced Dan of the fact – right before she asked him out. He never would have done so himself, something about not wanting to exploit his position as her supervisor. So they had waited for her enforced social service to end. She continued with the social service, voluntarily this time and to the shock of her friends – or former friends, as most of them left her in the rain. Yes, she had told Hermione everything about that time, hoping that she would avoid her mother's trials and tribulations. So far she did.

Fifteen, Emma mused watching her girl. She's turning into a young woman; and Luna as well. Soon they would start to date, despite there being no boys in their stories so far. Hopefully dating wouldn't change their friendship. They really needed each other. The girls, unaware of Emma's train of thoughts, were a little shocked when Emma stepped forward and pulled the both of them into a hug. After a moment the girls returned it, Luna even more than Hermione. She still missed her mother. And she loved hugs. It was nearly the best about Hermione. Nearly.

.

 _ **Quidditch Finals**_

.

"Ginny" grinned maliciously. This chance was simply too good to miss. She had wandered off from the rest of her family, feeling no pity for her brothers who were running around like headless chickens in search of their "poor little sister".

Tom had intended to use a compulsion charm on Lucius and did so quickly, to be on the safe side. The proud and haughty Malfoy family and the oversized and swarming Weasley clan met in the Minister's box. There had been the expected quarrel, insults being flung back and forth, while Tom used this opportunity to put some ideas into Lucius' head – ideas that would allow Draco more freedom and more money in the future. In addition, it would stop Lucius from ever noticing the diary's absence. Tom was still baffled, and more than a tad disappointed, that the man had never noticed its disappearance. However, riffling through Lucius' mind while he was distracted, he had been a more than a little surprised to learn about his plans for today. With a little care and planning, it would allow him to get rid of the man for a while, therefore placing Draco in a far better position.

 _So, you're planning to have a little fun with your friends_ , "Ginny" cackled.

Against the stream of the masses fleeing in panic, Tom was sneaking towards the centre of the agitation. A handful of wizards, clad into Death Eater garb complete with masks, were fooling around with the Muggle family owning this tract of land. This was so senseless. Playing around with Harry's wand – borrowed for the night - , he watched the "children" play. He intended to put Harry's wand to good use. He had noticed the similarity to his own wand – a wand he got back from Pettigrew months ago. Peter had retrieved it back then on that blasted night and hidden it for years, waiting for Tom's return. _Such loyalty_ , Tom snickered.

Tom narrowed his eyes as the Death Eaters started to gather for their departure. Crabbe and Goyle were there, easily discernible by their physical built. But he was after bigger prey. Just as Lucius was about to activate his portkey, he got hit by a Confundus. Instead of vanishing into the night with no-one the wiser, he stayed for a while longer. As his compatriots, following his orders, used their own portkeys to get away, a couple of Aurors appeared on the scene. Sadly, Mad-eye Moody was not among them. He had retired and would be DADA teacher at Hogwarts next year because of the tournament, not something Tom really cared for. At least, Kingsley Shacklebolt was among the Auror team, the bald black man being a frequent guest at the Burrow and a loyal follower of Dumbledore. "Ginny" grinned. Shacklebolt wouldn't allow Lucius to get away with this, unlike some other Aurors in Malfoy's pocket.

The following fight was short and vicious, the sight of Malfoy being dragged away only the sweeter.

Raising Harry's wand, Tom cast the Dark Mark in the sky, reminding his former followers who was their real master. Together with the shocking news about Malfoy's imprisonment, this would send them into hiding like the rats they were. Certainly it was a kind of poetic justice to use Potter's wand for announcing his return, was it not? She would return it later, and Harry would not be any wiser.

"Ginny" was happy and content with the night's events. Now she had only to return to her family, having lost her way and being in tears the whole time, poor little girl that she was.

.

 _ **Crouch Manor**_

.

For years he had been a prisoner. For years his father had determined his every step. But not anymore; never again would he allow someone to place his foot on his neck. There was only one man he called master, and it certainly wasn't this sad excuse of a father. His mother had sacrificed herself for his freedom, allowed him to leave the hell called Azkaban behind only to end in another prison. This one didn't have walls or guards, but it was a prison nonetheless. It was hypocrisy of the sickest kind for a man who always proselytized about the evilness of Dark Magic to use the Imperio on his own son so easily. For more than a decade he had been his father's slave, unable to leave the house with only a house elf for company.

Barthy Crouch Junior sneered at his father, his magical legs cut down under him, and a potion taking care of his will. They had reversed their roles and he had no intention to ever change it back. For now, he needed his father, his memories and his hair. It would be easy to mimic him. His father's position as the Head of Magical Cooperation opened him untold paths – paths he intended to use in his search for his master. Apart from some silly games of other Death Eaters there had been no sign of his master's presence so far, but Barthy had no doubt: his master was still out there. He would find him and return him to his rightful place.

But first he had to take some revenge. Not on his father, nor on some Auror or even the great Albus Dumbledore. No, he intended to avenge his master's defeat. The boy-who-lived, what an arrogant nickname. They saw a hero in him, put him on a pedestal, kowtowing like worms and licked his boots. He would kill him, in the most public way possible. And he already had an idea how.

.

Barthy Crouch entered "his" office. A couple of glares had been enough to frighten away anybody who dared to address him on his way in. His father's reputation had been helpful in that respect. They respected him but feared him as well. Now, they would fear him even more.

"Weasley," he bellowed. His assistant entered the office seconds later. Obviously, he had expected the call. Barthy saw fear in his eyes, but far more respect and adoration. It made him sick. However, he knew that Percy Weasley would be helpful in the foreseeable future. Barthy intended to shuffle off most of his day-to-day work to this young man, allowing him to concentrate on his own plans.

"Sir!" Percy greeted the man he believed to be his boss. Barthy Crouch Senior was a harsh task master and certainly not a friend, but he had learned so much in only two months. He would endure the older man's antics and antiquated opinions for a while and make the best out of his time. He had other dreams for the future, dreams he only shared with Penny.

"Sit down," Barthy ordered. He folded his hands in front of him, narrowed his eyes and ordered calmly. "now tell me everything about the status of our preparations for the upcoming event. Tell me everything about the Tri Magic Tournament."

.

 _ **A/N**_

 _And now at last it's time to return to the main story. Here a bit of a summary:_

 _ **Voldemort**_ _created only 3 Horcruxes in my story. The sliver in Harry's head influences him but isn't a Horcrux per se. Voldemort possessed Quirrell but was trapped in the Mirror of Erised._

 _ **Ginny**_ _used the diary in her first year and was possessed by 16y old Tom. Tom has only 2 servants so far: Draco Malfoy (who doesn't know his identity) and Peter Pettigrew. Theo Nott died (scapegoat)._

 _ **Neville**_ _officially died and continues to live as a pretend Harry Potter. He has no idea of his true nature (only Albus knows about it). He lives with the Weasleys._

 _ **Harry**_ _accompanied Remus to America and lives in Canada with Remus, Michiko and Jenny. He learned the Way of the Adept and the Magic of Shamans so far. It's intended for him to learn Wand Magic after his fifteenth birthday (one year from now)._

 _ **Barthy Crouch**_ _freed himself from his father's control and assumed his role. He is not pretend-Moody in this story. He is looking for his master and has no idea of his current status._

 _ **Lucius Malfoy**_ _got caught at the Quidditch Cup. More about him in the next chapter._

 _ **Sirius Black**_ _was free for a short time, before he became prisoner in his own house. Peter Pettigrew is now assuming his identity. Tom intends to possess his body at a later ritual._

 _ **Horcruxes:**_ _Tom has now control over all three Horcruxes (Diary, Diadem and Locket). He only needs the sliver of his older self (mostly because of the knowledge lying within)._

 _ **Status of Harry's abilities:**_

 _Harry has the 1_ _st_ _Kyu (highest rank below black belt) in Karate and 1_ _st_ _Dan in Kendo._

 _He just finished his (Mundane) Junior Exam (equivalent to OWL) and starts his magical OWL year._

 _Harry has The Wolf as his Spirit Animal and Jerry (a squirrel-like magical construct) as his main watcher._

 _ **Spells:**_ _(all of them the Shamanic Way, slow to cast but without the need of a wand)_

 _Awareness spells (enhance the senses and detect life signs)_

 _Summoning spells (call Spirits and Ghosts, summon watchers)_

 _Woodcraft (form wood according to his will)_

 _Healing spells (mostly basic ones plus detox, oxygen and stabilize)_

 _Stunning Bolt (slow to cast but can be prepared and kept ready)_

 _Basic spells (equal to basic Charms and Transfigurations)_

 _Dispel Magic and anchor spells to objects (wood and fur)_

 _ **Adept abilities:**_ _(shown so far)_

 _Enhance Strength and Quickness (needs a moment of concentration)_

 _Ki Fist (strike target at a distance or disarm)_

 _Snow-running_


	10. Chapter 10 Let's talk about the past

_**A/N**_

 _And now we continue with the main part. This chapter takes places right after the events of chapter 1._

 _This will be the last chapter with Harry Potter (pretend) and Harry Evans (real)._

.

 **Let's talk about the past**

.

 _ **Kutenai Village – still Halloween 1994**_

.

"Where is he?" Jenny screamed. The wooden house reverberated from her slapping the wall in a fit of rage. Dust fluttered to the ground and there was a crack in the one-inch wooden plank. Floe watched her silently. He missed his friend quite as much but felt that he at least had to stay calm.

The night had started so peacefully. There had been a small mass in remembrance of Harry's parents. They returned to their cosy house where Remus and Harry had prepared a campfire, perfect to sing and eat some marshmallows. There had been dancing and retelling stories of his parents' school time, and everything had been just fine before Harry had walked away. He only wanted to go look for some more firewood around the house. For a while they listened to him chopping wood, then suddenly something happened. Jenny had still no idea what exactly had caused the incident. It sounded like some kind of explosion. There was a brilliant flash and someone called his name, Harry's birth name – Harry Potter. They had hurried around the house only to find the place empty and deserted. There was some scorched grass, shaped like a circle, but nothing else. No Harry, no hatchet, nothing that explained where he had gone.

Michiko had raised the alarm, and only minutes later the whole village was looking for him. Paul had been very serious, his face telling Jenny that he didn't believe their search would be successful. But they had to be, they simply had to find him. _Where are you, Harry_?

Jenny screamed again, this time in despair. "Harry!"

.

 _ **Hogwarts**_

.

They had vacated the Great Hall, leaving the rest of the students in the care of Madam Sprout and the other teachers. Headmaster Dumbledore was leading the small procession towards his office, Harry and Luna close behind. Harry was still wary of all those foreigners and only Luna, who had linked arms with him, calmed him down slightly. Professor McGonagall and Professor Snape had moved to guard the couple on the flanks as if expecting them to make a run for it, only to be pushed aside by Hermione and Professor Flitwick. Filius was fingering his wand, letting Severus know that he was more than willing to defend his fledglings, while Minerva was simply too shocked by Hermione's rude behaviour to reprimand her. Luna slowed down a little for Hermione's comfort, glancing towards her sister's leg to inform Harry of the reason behind her behaviour. He nodded curtly and followed her lead.

Following this leading group were a couple of students circling a very confused "Harry Potter". While he was trying to find an explanation for this other boy's existence, he completely tuned out Ron's rambling. His "brother" was babbling something about this all being stupid and the other boy being some kind of conman who only wanted his fame and money. If it only was this easy. Harry Potter didn't believe it. He had a feeling of dread, as if this night would change everything for him.

"Everything will be alright, Harry." Parvati tried to calm him.

Unlike Lavender, who was hanging on Ron's lips, she stayed with her friend. Actually, she had expected Ginny to take her place, but Harry's girlfriend was slowly following them, calm as ever, her expression thoughtful as she watched the foreign Harry. It was an expression Parvati didn't like very much.

At last they entered Headmaster Dumbledore's office which became a little crowded. There weren't enough chairs for all of them, but the trio of teachers apparently preferred to stay standing, and so did Ginny. Lavender found a place on Ron's lap, while Harry Potter and Parvati sat down to the right. It left a single chair right in front of Headmaster Dumbledore. He was smiling his grandfatherly smile again, but didn't move to help Harry Evans, Luna or Hermione. Just as Filius stepped forward, Harry Evans gestured for him to hold back. Letting go of Luna's arm with a soft smile – Hermione using the moment to put a protective arm around the blonde girl – Harry put his hands on the chair.

"What is he doing?" Lavender wondered loudly.

"Looks like praying to me," Ron sniggered. "Perhaps he's a Squib and…"

Whatever he wanted to add, his word died on his tongue as the chair started to extend. Slowly, it grew into a two-seat bench. Luna bent forward and whispered into Harry's ear: "and Hermione?" The mentioned girl narrowed her eyes without letting go of her sister. "That's for the both of you," he responded. "I'll be standing."

With a dazzling smile, Luna dragged Hermione towards the bench and sat down. "This is really comfy." Her smile intensified another hundred watts. Harry felt something flutter in his stomach. His reaction apparently convinced Hermione that he wasn't a threat to her sister and she addressed the headmaster. "Explanation, now" she demanded curtly.

"Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall hissed.

Filius and Severus actually seemed to enjoy the moment. They liked for the headmaster to squirm for a change.

Hermione wasn't cowed, not by her former house head. She repeated the question by wording it more appropriately, but her voice lost nothing of its sharpness. "An explanation would be appreciated, Headmaster." Harry Evans bit on his lip. He intended to never get on that girl's bad side. He glanced towards the quirky blonde. She certainly seemed worth the risk. The girl occupying his thoughts didn't seem to listen. Instead she dreamily looked around and waved to someone or something.

"Hello Fawkes." Harry followed her gaze and wondered why he hadn't noticed the bird watching them.

"Is that a real Phoenix?" He wondered loudly.

"Yes," Luna bopped her head. The red-golden feathered bird trilled for a moment and cocked his head, staring intensely at Harry.

"Could we…" Severus got interrupted by Fawkes leaving his perch, flying over to Luna where he found a new resting place on the bench's backrest right between the girls.

"Hello Fawkes," Hermione now greeted him as well, her voice softer than Harry had ever heard her speak this evening. "Long time no see." He had visited her twice in the past, both after the troll attack and after getting unpetrified. Fawkes trilled again and continued to watch Harry Evans quite intensely.

"He likes you, Harry," Luna happily declared.

"Miss Lovegood is right," Headmaster Dumbledore agreed.

This was interesting. Fawkes had never reacted this way to "his" Harry Potter. Actually, he had been a little irritated around the boy in the past, as if he knew something to be wrong. More than once Albus had congratulated himself in the past for his decision not to involve the phoenix in the rescue of Neville Longbottom.

"As interesting as this is," Professor Snape drawled. "Could we please return to the matter at hand?"

There was a moment of silence, before Harry Potter of all attendees surprised them with his next words. "Evans, that's my mother's maiden name." He narrowed his eyes. "And he looks like he could be a cousin or something."

"He even has the same messy black hair," Parvati added. "Only his eyes are green, unlike yours."

"Lily's eyes," Severus explained softly, prompting more than one to widen their eyes. Harry Potter especially was shocked. He hadn't expected Professor Snape, the hated potions master, to know his mother's first name let alone the colour of her eyes. "Harry Potter," he gestured towards the boy that had been known as the boy-who-lived for more than a decade "has James eyes. And Harry Evans has Lily's."

"You're Harry Potter?" The foreign boy wondered with mocking in his voice.

"A little more respect," Ron growled. "He's the boy-who-lived."

Harry Evans blinked. "Isn't that interesting?"

"What do you mean by that?" Ron sneered. Lavender put a hand on his shoulder to calm him down, but he shook it off – first the hand, then her as he stood up, ignoring how she bumped to the ground, hissing in pain.

"Ron, you idiot," Parvati scolded him.

"Shut up," Ron growled, otherwise ignoring her while he stomped towards Harry Evans in a threatening manner.

"Mister Weasley, this is enough," Filius Flitwick stopped him. Not for the first time Hermione and Luna noticed the small Head of Ravenclaw doing his job while Professor McGonagall only watched the show. Apparently, he had really taken to heart Hermione's words and tried his best to regain their respect. It was a slow process, but Filius wasn't a slacker. "Leave now if you can't behave yourself."

"I…"

"Mister Weasley." Filius' tone of voice stopped him. This wasn't the usually easy-going teacher, this was someone who demanded respect and was willing to enforce it. "Please escort Miss Brown to the Hospital Wing and assure that Madam Pomfrey takes care of her bruises."

Ron blinked. He looked down and only now he seemed to notice his girlfriend's pain. He looked ashamed at least, and Lavender's face promised some serious tongue-lashing.

They watched the couple depart. As the door closed, the headmaster sighed. "Well, the famous Weasley temper. I'm sure he'll calm down once he grows up."

"Right," Hermione sneered who didn't believe it one moment.

"Back to the matter at hand," Headmaster Dumbledore twinkled happily. His appearance was in deep contrast to how he currently felt. This meeting could very well end in a disaster. On the other hand, he had to know, he had to adapt his plans if this boy really was…

"He is the real Harry Potter, is he not?" Professor Snape asked loudly, his words shocking everyone. " _Our_ Harry Potter, his appearance aside, never showed any similarity to his parents. He lacks Lily's talent in potions and even more he never showed Potter's arrogance. Without Weasley's influence he could have been a mediocre but acceptable student so far. Unremarkable would be a fitting description. A word fitting neither Lily nor James. More reason to believe that this foreign boy is the real Boy-who-lived. I assume he vanished, presumably before you presented him to the Weasleys. And because you needed a poster boy for the masses, you somehow found another," he pointed towards "Harry Potter".

"Severus, you can't actually believe this nonsense," Minerva rejected his idea.

Severus Snape simply ignored her, his dark eyes drilling holes into the headmaster. Filius stayed silent for now. He knew more than most others about the past, but he had to be careful. Harry Evans watched the exchange, waiting for the Headmaster's reaction.

"Perhaps we should contact Harry's family first," Headmaster Dumbledore surprised them with his sudden idea, his non-answer in a way answering Snape's question. The others didn't miss that fact. "They must be concerned about his sudden departure."

"You have no idea," Harry Evans sniggered. "I wonder if Jenny left the village standing or razed it to the ground while searching for me." _Not that Michiko and Floe would fare much better_.

"Jenny?" Luna asked, looking uneasy. _Was this Jenny his girlfriend?_ She wondered, surprised by how much her stomach clenched at the idea.

"My sister," Harry Evans explained. "You'll like her."

"You have a sister? A real sister?" Severus asked. Lily and James only had one child, as he knew.

"In every way that counts," Harry responded. Addressing Luna again, he continued. "She's three years my senior. And she's the best dancer you've ever seen. She even got a stipend for one of the most respected Japanese Dance Academy next summer." There was honest adoration and love in his voice.

"You live in Japan?" Albus asked, trying to pry for information.

"No," Harry rolled his eyes. "I don't," he replied without further explaining it.

Albus deflated a little. "Do you want to use my Floo to tell them where you are?"

"No," he cackled a little. "We don't use such antiquated communication in… over there." He looked thoughtful for a moment. The adults stared at him. _Antiquated?_ Hermione looked thoughtful, wondering if his family simply used telephones. Was he kind of Muggle-raised? "But you're right. I should inform them before we continue. I have a hunch that this discussion will take some time." Harry Evans closed his eyes and concentrated, the adults watching him, wondering what he intended to do. Filius and Luna squeaked a little as Jerry made an appearance right on Albus' table. The squirrel looked a little like a Patronus but was far more solid and lifelike.

"What is this?" Filius asked.

"That's Jerry. Say hello Jerry."

The squirrel changed its form into something akin to a flying squirrel and glided towards Professor Flitwick, chirping happily. As Filius tried to touch it, Jerry dodged his hand easily before going for a spin through the office. Harry watched him closely. He noticed how Jerry kept his distance to the Headmaster, Minerva and Ginny but flew closer to this "Harry Potter", Parvati and Hermione, before he landed on Luna's shoulder. His stomach fluttered again at his peculiar behaviour. Only Jenny and Michiko were allowed to touch Jerry.

Her smile widened as did her eyes. "He's solid." Jerry chirped like telling her "naturally I am."

"Hello Jerry," she greeted him. Hermione watched the squirrel warily, but relaxed as she detected no immediate danger. Jerry's tiny paws played with Luna's bottle cap necklace, a necklace gifted to her by Hermione after the last one got destroyed through one of the Twins' pranks.

"Jerry, behave yourself," Harry told him. "Jerry is a friend of mine. He is something we call Watcher. It's some kind of magical construct." Harry didn't know that he told Filius far more than intended. The experienced Charms professor immediately discovered the only place he could have learned this kind of magic: The First Nation Shamans.

"Jerry," Harry Evans opened his hand and Jerry accepted the invitation, jumping onto his forearm. "I need you to go to Jenny and my parents. Tell them that I'm okay. I'm at Hogwarts in Scotland and I'll stay for a few days until we get this sorted out. Can you do this for me?" Jerry chirped. He left his resting place, glided around Luna and out of the window before vanishing into the night.

"Will he be alright?" Luna asked a little concerned.

"He'll be fine," Harry calmly responded, moved by her concern. He knew that Jerry would need a few hours to reach his family. Hopefully they wouldn't be too concerned.

.

"You said," Professor Snape said, his voice trembling a little. "You said this Jenny is your sister in every way that counts. What do you mean with that? If she's three years older than you, than she can't be Lily's daughter."

"Were you a friend of my mother?" Harry Evans asked.

Harry Potter frowned. Such an idea was ridiculous, was it not? Why would the man behave so hateful towards him in the past if he was? Snape had ridiculed and mocked him from the first day. To his surprise, Professor Snape nodded. "I was her friend before we went to Hogwarts. We were kind of neighbourhood friends – Lily, your Aunt Petunia, and I." Telling him about Petunia and her hate of magic was for another time.

Harry Evans looked thoughtful for a moment, his mind going through his memories of the things Remus had told him about his mother. Long nose, crooked teeth, and the man had long oily black hair. "You're Severus Snape," he gushed, suddenly realizing the identity of this man.

Severus blinked. "You know me?"

"I saw a picture of you. I think it was for your first visit to Madam Malkin at Diagon Alley." Severus remembered that picture. He got a print of that and some others. Lily's father had been the photographer.

"So, you are Harry Potter, the real one?" The voice of "Harry Potter" was flat and harried. His whole world was crumbling around him. As he started to shudder, Parvati put an arm around him and dragged him against her shoulder, whispering soothing words into his ear.

"I'm Harry Evans-Howell, but I was born Harry Potter," Harry Evans replied, uncertain how to react to this other boy. He couldn't imagine to live someone's life only to learn that it was a lie the whole time. Did Remus know about this? He had to ask him, ask him why he didn't stop this mockery. "And to answer your question," he continued, mostly to distract himself from the sight and to give the boy some time for calming down. "At the age of two I was adopted by my father Remus." Albus eyes widened. "A few years later he met my adoptive mother and her daughter Jenny. They never married but are as good as husband and wife. Jenny was my sister in spirit first, then we shared our blood in a ritual of our tribe."

"Blood magic?" Minerva shouted in disgust.

"Don't be hasty," Filius calmed her down. "I don't think this is what Harry meant." Not that he had anything against blood magic. Like every kind of magic, it could be used for good and bad things. Minerva so easily forgot that it had been blood magic that allowed Lily to defend her son and destroy Voldemort.

"No," Harry rolled his eyes. "Never heard of Blood Brothers? In books, films?"

Minerva looked a little dumbfounded, having no idea what the boy was talking about. Hermione came to the rescue. "You mean something simple like making a cut to your palms, pressing the wounds together and swear some oath; like in those Western films?"

"Yeah, something like that. Only a spiritual leader of our tribe presided over the oath and acknowledged it. After the oath all tribe members accepted us as real siblings. It doesn't use magic but is still taken seriously with our people." Harry turned to Professor McGonagall. "Clear so far?" He asked with a mocking voice, before he continued. "And last year, on Halloween, we called forth the spirits of my parents, asking them for their consent for Jenny and I to magically adopt each other."

"Legal, blood and magic," Severus whispered, stunned by the imagination of calling forth Lily's spirit. "I see. Really a sister in every way that counts short of a complete blood adoption ritual." And those were rare, really rare nowadays, even among the old pureblood families.

"Still doesn't count around here," Professor McGonagall interjected haughtily, overcoming the shock of this news. "Mister Lupin had no right to abduct the boy. He should have gone to some blood relative."

"You mean a blood relative like dear Aunt Petunia?" It was the first time for a while that "Harry Potter" raised his voice again. "What Professor Snape forgot to mention is how much she hates magic. I've been living with her for two years," he explained to Harry Evans and the others. "She kept me in a cupboard under the stairs, fed me scraps only, and did her best to keep me out of sight of their neighbours – me, the freak."

"Mister…" Minerva started, only to stop as she asked herself how to address him.

"And not to forget about dear Uncle Vernon, Petunia's husband," he continued without giving her any heed. "He actually tried to beat the magic out of me. Started it when I was barely two years old."

Hermione, Luna and Parvati shared a small sob. Doing that to a small boy. Now they understood at last how "Harry" could follow Ron's lead so easily. The Weasleys had rescued him from his personal hell and he would always be thankful for such a deed.

"Obviously, Remus did the right thing, as he OBEYED MY MOTHER's WISHES and took me away," Harry Evans declared hotly. He did his best to suppress showing the pity he felt about the boy and his sad fate. Apparently, this "Harry Potter" had endured quite a lot in his name, and Harry Evans was willing to repay the debt.

"Mrs Potter wanted this?" Albus wondered loudly.

"Miss Evans, yes," Harry corrected him. "I don't know every detail, but apparently she begged Remus to take me away in case she died. She even prepared all papers for the adoption."

"I'm sorry, Harry," Albus sighed. "But Minerva was right. Remus had no right to do this. It was not in Mrs Potter's…"

"Stop calling her that," Harry shouted. "in the Mundane World James Potter and Lilly Evens never married. That's the reason the adoption happened this easily back then. According to our home country's law I'm legally adopted by Remus Howell and my name is Harry Evans-Howell. I'm not interested in the laws of this backwater country that still follows pureblood dogma and allows Death Eaters to buy their way out of the prison. Yes, I read the newspaper about what happened at the Quidditch Cup," he answered the unspoken question.

Albus sighed. For a while the start of the term had looked quite good. Lucius Malfoy had been sent in a cell of the DMLE for his part in the cup accident. After two weeks however, he got released into house arrest, his money slowly pathing the way. He had no doubt that in the end there would be a fine at most. A slap on the wrist, nothing more. "But you're in Scotland now and…"

"Only because you abducted me. My people won't stand this," he crossed his arms.

"And you promised him that he would be allowed to return home," Hermione interjected. "Certainly, you'll keep your word, Headmaster." There was more than a hint of mockery in her voice. Albus didn't like it one bit, especially because she was right. In the end, he had no right to retain him. While not a legal adult, Harry was above thirteen, the age teenagers had a say in the question of their living arrangements.

Surprisingly, it was Filius who came to his rescue. "It's not this easy, Miss Granger. It wasn't Headmaster Dumbledore or one of us who abducted him but the Goblet of Fire. The fourth slip of paper bore the name "Harry Potter". Apparently, the Goblet interpreted the meaning behind the name and called forward Mister Evans instead of Harry Potter, the fourth champion of the tournament."

"The fourth champion in a Tri Wizard Tournament?"

Filius sighed. "I don't like this anymore than you, Miss Granger. But we have to examine the situation closely. It is possible that Mister Evans is now a legitimate champion."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that he would be magically bound to the tournament and has to partake or risk losing his magic."

"You can't be serious," Harry Evans rejected the idea wholeheartedly. He wouldn't allow someone – or some artefact – to force him into this.

"I only said it is a possibility. We have to examine the situation before making any hasty decisions."

"I support Professor Flitwick's conclusions," Headmaster Dumbledore stated calmly.

"What a surprise," Severus mocked. Minerva glared, Albus narrowed his eyes. "What? Don't tell me that this whole mess couldn't be the result of one of Albus machinations."

"Severus…" Albus started but Professor Snape wouldn't listen.

"No, I won't hear it. Regretfully, Filius is right. We have to investigate this mess. And after that, I'll see to it that Mister Evans is able to return to his family. Lily wanted to have him out of your grabby hands and I believe she was right, now more than ever." He narrowed his eyes. "I've abandoned her once. I won't repeat this error."

Harry Evans looked around, his eyes resting a bit longer on Filius, Severus and mostly Luna. He came to a decision. "Alright, I'll stay for a while until you get this mess sorted out."

"Splendid," Albus' smile broadened. "Then we only have to sort out where you will stay."

Harry Evans shrugged. "Simple, I'll stay with Luna and Hermione." Minerva pouted. Filius looked quite happy about the decision and even Severus wasn't against this. Regretfully, Albus wanted none of it. He fetched the old, battered sorting hat from its shelf and offered it to Harry Evans.

The teenager grimaced. "I don't wear hats, and certainly not such an old…"

"Harry," Luna stopped him. "Don't be so rude. Leslie has feelings too."

"Leslie?"

"My name, sir." The voice nearly scared him enough to drop the hat.

"You can speak?"

"Certainly, Sir. And I have to add: for far longer than you. Not to sound arrogant or anything."

"Certainly not," Harry Evans smiled. "So, what shall I do with… Leslie?"

"Put him on your head, silly," Luna explained. "He'll tell you to which house you belong into."

A little hesitantly he obeyed. Moments later he heard Leslie's voice again, this time in his head. _"I see. Very eager to learn, certainly Ravenclaw material like Miss Lovegood."_ Harry Evans was happy to hear this. _"Very loyal too, especially to friends and family. Your sibling bond is stronger than most I've ever seen. You would make Hufflepuff proud."_

A sudden idea flickered through Harry Evans' mind. _"Which house does my doppelganger belong to?"_

" _Mister … Mister …"_ the hat struggled with the name as if there was some compulsion forcing him to stay silent about it. " _belongs to Gryffindor_."

" _Gryffindor?_ "

" _The house of the brave and adventurous_."

" _Mmm_ ," Harry Evans pondered the information for a moment. " _Not to sound too hasty, but he doesn't appear…"_ He stopped, stumbling over his words as he didn't want to insult the boy he barely knew. In his eyes, however, this "Harry Potter" was far too shy to be in the house of the brave and adventurous.

" _The Headmaster demanded he be sorted it this way three years ago_." Leslie didn't sound happy about it.

" _Where you would have sorted him otherwise?"_

" _Well, into Hufflepuff. Loyalty and hard work are his primary attributes by far_."

Harry sighed. The other watched him expectantly. It looked like a hatstall. They had no idea that it wasn't Harry Evans but Harry Potter that delayed the decision. " _I want to be with him_."

" _You want to be Gryffindor like… the other one?_ "

" _Yes,"_ Harry calmly declared. _"It won't be easy for him. According to how this Weasley behaved, I assume his friends and housemates won't be happy when hearing the truth_."

" _Presumably_ ," the sorting hat agreed. _"Some of them certainly won't believe that he didn't know the truth until tonight. According to my experience with the House of Gryffindor, they'll ostracize him. They tend to act a little rash."_

" _Apart from that girl perhaps_ ," Harry remembered.

" _Miss Patil always had strong Hufflepuff tendencies as well_. _Both Patil girls do, actually_." Harry stored away that piece of information.

" _He doesn't deserve to be ostracized. I want to help him. I want to get to know him better."_

" _That's very thoughtful of you, Mister Evans. I see much of your mother in you, but also the impact Mister Lupin had on your life."_ Harry took it as a compliment.

" _So, you'll do it?"_

" _If it is your wish."_

" _It is."_

" _Then so be it,_ " Leslie decided. He continued for all to hear. "Then you'll be Gryffindor."

The reactions were as expected. Albus and Minerva were more than content with the decision. The person behind the name had changed but the house was the same. Filius and Severus were disappointed, with the Head of House Slytherin thoughtful about the reasons for such a decision.

Luna was floored. She had hoped for Harry to join her in Ravenclaw. It lightened her heart a bit, as Harry Evans put the hat on the headmaster's desk and said: "I dearly hope we can still be friends, Luna."

Luna showed her thousand-watt smile. Hermione rolled her eyes. "As if you'd a chance to get rid of us; I mean her; Rid of Luna," she fumbled a little with her words.

"With this sorted," Albus interjected. "I think we should…"

It was Parvati's voice that interrupted him this time, reminding them of the other boy greatly influenced by tonight's events. "What I would like to know is how our Harry fits into this mess!"

.

Harry Potter looked torn between his wish to hear the truth and to simply curl up and put his hands on his ears, blocking out any further talk. For a while, Albus Dumbledore dodged the questions about the boy that had been known as Harry Potter for more than a decade, but Filius and Severus supported Parvati's wish to answer them right now. After succumbing to those demands, Albus at least wanted to diminish the number of people listening to his explanations, but he got rejections from all sides.

"I have a right to know who was pretending to be me for years," Harry Evans stated. "I'll be the one who has to live with the backlash – and he as well." He included Harry Potter.

"I won't leave Harry's side," Luna and Parvati simply declared, unwilling to move from their respective Harry.

When he tried to evict her, Hermione simply rolled her eyes. "Don't start, Headmaster, simply don't. I think all of us are quite able to imagine tomorrow's headline." Everybody paled. Certainly, dozens of owls were already on their way to tell some parents about the interruption of the choosing. Not to speak of the Ministry officials present. Mister Crouch wouldn't exactly wait for Albus' return to start his investigation. The public outcry would be immense. "I see some quite unpleasant questions in your very near future, Sir. Not to speak of Minister Fudge and the Wizengamot. I don't think I exaggerate if I expect quite some interest from all sides. Allowing me to listen now would only speed up my knowledge for a couple of days."

Albus Dumbledore looked broken for a few moments, but Hermione squashed any hint of pity that tried to take place in her heart. If the headmaster had done what she assumed he did, then he deserved the backlash that was imminent. In the mundane world, he would lose any respect and power. No-confidence votes would evict him from his posts and he would be lucky to avoid a prison sentence. Around here, she expected the result to be far more sedate. Depending on his – certainly quite evocative – explanations of his reasons, quite a number of pureblood sheeple would still kiss his arse.

"Alright," Albus Dumbledore complied after a longer silence. "It started a few days after that fateful Halloween night…"

.

 _ **A wee bit later**_

"Are you alright?" For more or less the first time since they met, Hermione addressed him directly. There was only concern in her eyes, no pity or fear.

"It's a bit overwhelming," Harry Evans replied.

They had just left Headmaster Dumbledore's office. The headmaster had told them some story about his disappearance barely a week after his parents' death. How it had shocked him and how Dumbledore had struggled to find a solution.

" _The public needed you, Harry. They needed a beacon of hope in those dark times. So many people had died in the war. With Voldemort's defeat through your hand, you became that beacon. The wizards and witches of Great Britain wanted to see you, to take part in your life. Your disappearance would have shattered this fragile hope."_

Harry liked neither Dumbledore's familiarity to call him "Harry" instead of Mister Evans nor that silly talk about him destroying Voldemort. According to Remus it had been something his mother had prepared that won the day, a far more believable explanation in his eyes.

"I can imagine," Hermione said, smiling softly. "But so you know, we're here for you."

Watching the discussion in the office, the impact of the information on both Harrys and Luna as well, Hermione had used the time to come to a decision: she would support Luna in her wish to help this Harry Evans. As long as he stayed true to his word and didn't reveal himself to be a danger to her sister, she would at least try her best to befriend him.

"Thank you," Harry simply responded, while Luna tackled her friend and hugged her.

"Please return to your common rooms," Professor McGonagall commanded the five teenagers. She had left the office with Snape and Flitwick, her expression one of biting a sour lemon. "Mister Potter… Mister Potter," she got louder as only the former Mister Potter reacted by habit, while the other boy simply started to walk away with Hermione and Luna.

"I think she means you," Hermione suggested without looking back or stopping Harry.

"Harry Potter…"

"Can't imagine how," Harry Evans shrugged. "it's not my name and she knows it."

Professor McGonagall's expression only turned even sourer, her face reddening and looking like she had constipation. She completely ignored the hurt look of the former Harry Potter. How easy had she accepted the news and come to terms with the alterations. Not deigning to look at him, the former golden boy, she only had eyes for the new boy on the block. To his own surprise he didn't hate Harry Evans. It wasn't this boy's fault how much his world was crumbling around him, how much it would change further in the future. Would he even be welcome anymore at the Weasleys? Had he lost his home as well? He shuddered again, would have fainted without Parvati steadying him.

"Mister Evans," Professor Snape interjected at last. "As much as I would like to watch you drive your new House Head into an apoplexy, please refrain from doing so and return to YOUR common room. I'm certain Miss Patil and… Mister Bain… will be willing to show you the way. Miss Granger and Miss Lovegood have to return to another dorm and it isn't on your way." There was some hesitation in his use of the name Bain, sure sign that he didn't fully believe Dumbledore's story.

" _He was a war orphan with no family left. His parents, the Muggles John and Genna Bain, were murdered in the war. I only knew about him because his name was written into the book of Hogwarts like every Muggleborn. I chose him because he had no one left to take care of him and Muggleborn orphans have caused serious problems in the past. I used an alchemical potion to make him look similar to James and hoped to offer him a better future. It wasn't the best idea, I admit, but I saw no other option back then."_

Too many questions were left unanswered, too many things unsaid. Nobody knew that the whole story was bullshit prepared by Albus years ago to have a lifeline in reserve should the real Harry Potter ever turn up. None of it was true but Albus knew that the full truth would put Augusta Longbottom strongly against him. She wouldn't hesitate to turn other supporters of the light against him and even open a case in front of the Wizengamot – a case he couldn't win. No, Severus knew nothing of this, but he realized that they were told the half-truth at most. He had the full intention to solve this puzzle, the real identity and history of the boy, but for now he would accept that his name was Michael Bain.

"I can't leave them on their own," Harry Evans calmly replied. "Neither my mother nor my sister would appreciate such a behaviour, unfitting of a gentleman."

Professor Snape rolled his eyes but said nothing. He was actually a little impressed, even more so because he had the impression that Evans' behaviour was for real and not for show or to annoy McGonagall.

"I will take care of the young ladies," Professor Flitwick offered.

Harry Evans shot him a thoughtful look. "I believe you have more than a hint of Goblin blood in your veins, am I right about that, Professor Flitwick?"

McGonagall gasped. Snape's eyes widened at the rudeness of the question. Hermione opened her mouth to scold him, only to get pinched from Luna. Professor Flitwick stayed calm however. "You assume correctly."

Harry offered a half bow. "My mother always stated that Goblins are a race of honourable warriors. Because of this I entrust you with taking care of my good friends Miss Lovegood and Miss Granger."

Professor Flitwick blinked in surprise. He hadn't exactly expected this answer. "I really would like to get to know your family."

Harry suppressed a cackle but barely. "Don't worry, you'll get the chance soon enough. And hopefully you'll clear the path swiftly enough for the fury called my mother." He said his goodbye to the girls, only to find himself hugged by Luna. "Sleep well."

"See you tomorrow," Hermione said, before she – after a moment of hesitation – hugged him as well. "And please take care of him," she whispered, glancing towards Michael Bain. "It won't be easy for him." Like Professor Snape she had a hunch that the former Harry Potter's fate had somehow influenced the sorting of Harry Evans.

"I will," Harry assured her. He watched the girls depart with Professor Flitwick, furthermore ignoring McGonagall's impatience, now showing even more as she started to tap her foot on the stone floor.

"Goodnight, Professor Snape," he got a curt nod in return and walked towards Parvati and Michael. "Please show me the way, my dear housemates."

.

 _ **Gryffindor Common Room**_

.

"What is he doing here?" Ron growled.

He had been waiting for his adoptive brother's return since he arrived at the common room, many other Gryffindors keeping him company. Lavender was sitting across him, mostly ignoring Ron or glaring at him. She hadn't accepted his half-assed apology and needed a bit more time to cool down. However, she shared Ron's interest in the foreign boy's presence. For a moment she watched Ginny in surprise. The girl had slithered into the room and slipped into the shadows, obviously unwilling to take part in the following conversation. Interestingly it was Parvati who stayed at Harry Potter's side, the boy looking pale and like he wanted to faint any moment. Usually, Ginny tried to keep Parvati away from "her" Harry, but this had changed somehow tonight.

"Are you okay, Harry?" Lavender asked. While she wasn't awfully close to the boy, he was Ron's brother and she cared for him.

"I'm not," Harry whispered, sounding defeated.

"Not okay?" Lavender wondered.

"Not Harry," he replied to her utter astonishment.

Parvati dragged him onto a couch and put both arms around the boy who was seriously trembling now, the truth fully catching up at last. She feared that he was going into shock.

Ron's face was an expression of utter confusion. It soon turned into anger, as he saw Harry Evans hurry to his adoptive brother's side and kneel down in front of him. "What are you doing there?"

"Shut the fuck up, Ron," Parvati hissed.

She narrowed her eyes and watched the other Harry closely. _No, not the other Harry_ , she mused. _He's the one and only Harry. The name of my friend is Michael, Michael Bain_. Her gaze went to Michael's face. _Is he still my friend?_ Her mind went back to all those times she had watched him in the past, the times she noticed the real Michael behind the mask, the boy who liked peace and calm, who loved plants and spending time with Madam Sprout and Madam Longbottom in the Greenhouses. The boy who fumbled through potions and never achieved the spell mastery expected of him. The unhappy boy; the boy who was nice and sweet when Ron wasn't around. The boy, who now needed her help far more than at any time before. The boy who was still her friend. Nothing had changed for her. "Can you help him?" She softly asked.

"I'll try," Harry replied equally soft. "Paul would have been better at this."

"Paul?"

"My teacher in the healing arts," Harry explained, pushing back his sleeves.

On his right wrist a wristband became visible, some kind of leather with a clear crystal. Two dozen Gryffindors watched him, murmuring among themselves about the weird show. This was nothing they had even witnessed from Madam Pomfrey. Harry put his hands onto Michael's shoulders and gently dragged him forward until his forehead rested against Harry's. The crystal started to shine softly, magic emanating from his hands and encasing the trembling boy. Ron moved to intervene but a furious gesture of Parvati stopped him cold. He had no doubt that the girl would hex him to Sunday if he tried anything to interrupt what was happening right there in front of them.

For a while nothing happened. Then Harry started to sing. The words were completely foreign, the melody soothing. Whatever he was doing, the impact was clearly visible – and perceptible to Parvati who still had an arm around her friend. The trembling lessened and colour returned to his face. Michael still didn't look healthy but at least not like he would faint at any moment. Harry continued to sing for a while until the song slowly died down as did the light emanating from the crystal. He moved back a little and asked Michael with surprising concern in his voice: "Are you okay, Michael?" The boy nodded weakly.

"Michael? Why is he calling you Michael?" Lavender asked. Ron wanted to ask the same only less politely. _What the heck_ would certainly have been part of his question.

"Because that's my name, apparently." Michael, formerly known as Harry Potter, sounded utterly broken and defeated.

"What do you…" Ron started to ramble as everybody expected him to. The Weasley temper was well-known among his friends and housemates.

"Shut up and sit down," Parvati coldly ordered. "Then I'll explain." Ron obeyed, for now.

Michael looked thankful. He really didn't feel like explaining. He didn't even dare to look Ron in the eyes, fearing to see only hate there. Harry sat down on Michael's other side and waited for Parvati to explain the news. She waited for the rest of the house to gather. Those who had watched the show so far had called in the others. To her relief, the Twins came down as well. Hopefully they would keep their brother under control, as she expected him to explode in no time. Ginny was still keeping to the shadows, a fact that disturbed her quite a bit. For the first time since meeting him three years ago, Parvati wished for Percy Weasley to be around.

"Thirteen years ago," Parvati started as everybody had settled down, "You-know-who was killed, as you all know. Shut up and listen," she stopped Ron before he could interrupt her. "Back then, Headmaster Dumbledore decided that it would be best for Harry Potter to grow up with his Aunt and Uncle." Some of the Gryffindors frowned. This was new to them. Most assumed he had lived with the Weasleys for the whole time. "However, as we learned just an hour ago, his mother had other plans. She begged a friend to take care of him outside Great Britain."

"But he had to stay…"

"Why would she do this…"

Parvati allowed them to ramble for a while before she continued. "Whatever her reasons, that friend obeyed her wishes. He took Harry and left the country."

"What are you talking about? He's sitting right there? Ouch! What was this for?" Ron rubbed his head where he got knocked around by George. "Shut up and listen. I want to hear this."

"Thank you, George," Parvati hinted a bow. "As I said: he left the country and took Harry away. He never returned – until tonight."

All eyes were on Harry Evans now and he calmly stated: "I'm Harry Evans-Howell, but I was born Harry Potter, son of James Potter and Lily Potter née Evans. For the past thirteen years I lived with my adoptive family."

"He's lying," Ron declared heatedly. "He only wants to get the fame and money and…"

"He's not lying," Parvati calmly retorted. "Headmaster Dumbledore confirmed it."

"So, he's the real Harry Potter?" George asked. Parvati and Harry nodded.

"Then the question of the evening should be," Fred wondered loudly, pointing towards Michael. "Who's he?"

.

"I'm Michael Bain, son of John and Genna Bain, two Muggles who got killed in the war," Michael calmly stated.

"You lied to me." Ron's reaction was neither surprising nor welcome.

"No, I didn't," Michael's voice was utter defeat. He knew he wouldn't be able to convince Ron. He had lost his brother, the boy who had been his beacon for years in this storm of confusion and difficult decisions. "I never knew the truth before tonight."

"I don't believe you," Ron screamed. "Not a single word. You're a liar, and a backstabbing traitor and a thief. And…" He stopped his ramblings and stared with wide eyes as Harry Evans left his place and marched towards him, his face a stony mask. This boy was a complete different calibre to the Harry Ron was used to. Only the name being the same, this one had self-confidence en masse and the muscles to back it.

"Shut up. The only traitor I see around here is you, Ron Weasley. Michael didn't know the truth before Headmaster Dumbledore told him tonight. His whole life is in shambles. For years he thought he was Harry Potter, assumed Lily and James Potter to be his parents. He knew their names, their faces and what lessons they loved at school. He heard stories about their school time and their friends, about James' pranks and Lily's studiousness. He loved them and he missed them like every boy would miss his parents. And a single night took all of this away. He lost his name and his past, his parents and apparently his family as well. You have been his brother for years, Weasley. You pretended to care for him. Tonight, he needs you more than ever. And just now you turn your back on him. You should go, Weasley. Go away and think. Think about what it means to be a brother, a friend. And I really hope you'll understand how much your words hurt the boy that had hoped for your support."

For a long moment there was stunned silence in the common room. The Twins at least appeared to be thoughtful; and even Ron was at least a little shaken. However, it was Percy's voice which broke the silence. It was like he had heard Parvati's unspoken wish and had silently arrived in the middle of Harry's speech. "Well said, Mister Evans. Well said. We don't know the full story so far and I'm not certain that we ever will. But be assured, Michael, that you still have a family." Percy was happy that he had followed a hunch and went to his old dorm. As a guest of Hogwarts, he wasn't meant to be here, but the Fat Lady had no qualms about letting him in – him, one of the students that had always been polite towards her.

"But…but…" Ron was out of words. He had never really liked the boy, had only accepted him because he supposedly was Harry Potter. Fame and money; this had been the importance of him. Ron paled as he remembered all those pictures of the both of them. "Ron and Harry" no more; they were about Ron and the liar, Ron and the pretender, Ron and the legacy hunter.

"You really should follow Mister Evans' advice, Ron. Go away and think. Think long, think hard and come to a conclusion. Have you ever truly been his friend and brother? If yes, then you should stay at his side and support him. If not, then it is not Michael who was the liar and traitor in the past years."

"Mum won't stand it," Ron mumbled as he left the room, unwilling to hear more about it and unable to come up with a witty reply.

Percy put a hand on Michael's shoulder. "You're still my brother, Michael. Your name may have changed but nothing else."

.

 _ **Home of the Howell Family**_

.

"JERRY!" Jenny's screech was loud enough to wake up the whole village.

She didn't care one bit. Jerry was here, with news from Harry. Only that counted. The squirrel endured the crushing hug from the girl. Luckily, he was sturdy enough to withstand this emotional outburst, another difference with a Patronus. Seconds later the whole family had gathered and listened to his message. It was troubling. It still didn't solve the mystery of his disappearance. But he was safe at least. They knew where he was.

"Tomorrow we'll depart," Michiko decided.

Remus looked thoughtful for a long moment before he agreed. Jenny wanted to go immediately but bowed to her mother's wishes. Michiko's expression told her that this wasn't the moment to rebel.

A hasty message to Paul and Martin later, they went to bed, hoping for a little sleep before the morning sun heralded the new day, the travel day. Jenny clung to Floe and listening to his rumbling breath, listening to her mother sobbing in relief that her son was safe.

Tomorrow she would see him again. Tomorrow someone would pay for what had happened to her brother.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Gryffindor 3**_ _ **rd**_ _ **years girls' dorm**_

.

The evening had been far more interesting than he expected. He had known about the false "Harry Potter", but the sudden appearance of this Harry Evans had still been a shock. He would have to keep a close eye on the boy, would try to learn everything about his past.

" _At the age of two I was adopted by my father Remus_ ," he had told them. That certainly put another twist on the matter, especially on his visit to Sirius. _Perhaps I have to delay the ritual for a couple more weeks_ , he mused. The changes and their impact on his plans had to be examined very carefully. He was eager to get out of this body, to become Sirius Black and start his operation in earnest. However, he had to be patient. Perhaps this was a chance as well, a chance to get the real Harry under his control and to destroy Dumbledore. Certainly, the backlash would be gigantic as soon as the public learned about this. With Dumbledore sent packing, it would be far easier for him to execute the changes he intended. His plans could be seriously advanced and accelerated, perhaps spare him years of politicking.

On the other hand, he needed to solve the puzzle of the goblet choosing four champions instead of three. Somebody had messed with the goblet, that for sure, but who and why? Had the unknown factor expected this result or had he been surprised as well? Observation and investigation, those were the motto of the coming weeks.

 _We'll see, Harry Evans, we'll see what to make of your arrival._

.

The body at rest, Tom's mind resting, the brain was not completely at peace.

For the first time in months, Ginny dared to hope. For a long time, she had to watch Tom hoodwinking her family, making plans and meeting with Malfoy. She had to endure hours of Tom torturing Muggleborns caught by Pettigrew, him killing those poor souls and rip their magic out of their dying hearts. While he became stronger and stronger, her position got more and more hopeless. For more than a year she had already been his prisoner, with nobody sensing her terror, her despair.

But now, a new piece showed up on the chess board. The changes were incalculable, but everything was better than this.

Perhaps now at last there was a chance to get free again.

 _I'm counting on you, Harry Evans._

.

 _ **A/N**_

 _The name Albus uses to hide Neville's real identity was a suggestion of my son. I hope the real John and Genna Bain aren't opposed to me using their names._

 _ **From now on (until his true identity is unveiled) I'll use "Michael Bain" for the pretend Harry and "Harry Evans" for the real one.**_

 _The sorting hat got the name "Leslie" in my story because he was voiced by Leslie Phillips in the first two HP films._


	11. Chapter 11 Repercussions

**Repercussions**

.

 _ **Ministry of Magic – 1st of November**_

.

As expected, the writ of summons was in the morning post. The Wizengamot demanded explanations, and explanations they would get, his very own spin of the truth. Spinning a story had always been Albus' forte. The Minister would be there, along with Umbridge - his personal lapdog - and Lucius Malfoy, certainly more than a tad giddy about the chance to lessen the pressure he felt from all sides since the Quidditch cup debacle. At least, Augusta Longbottom still unaware of "Harry Potter's" real identity should still be on his side. Passing the corridors of the Ministry, Kingsley and Tonks were quite busy keeping the animals who called themselves journalists away. Dozens of parents had already learned about the incident, their children eager to send them owls, each message sillier than the previous one. Rumours of all kind filled the air, the most ridiculous one speaking of him ritually killing Harry and creating a homunculus to replace him.

Albus Dumbledore entered court room 10, the one reserved for the full Wizengamot assembly. Most of the aforementioned people had already arrived. Even within his few friends present, like Elphias Doge and Dedalus Diggle, none looked happy to be here. Damage control would be the word of the day. Barty Crouch was also there, an unfriendly gleam in his eyes and a stone-faced Percy Weasley at his side. With this investigation affecting his own future, Albus had to step down from his office for now. Tiberius Ogden would be leading the Wizengamot until Albus' name got cleared. A welcome decision as Tiberius was an old friend and strongly set against Malfoy and his cronies. He would enforce a fair hearing and allow Albus to explain himself without someone twisting his every word.

His seat would be in the middle of the room, a very new experience to him. At least, it was a comfy chair and a table was waiting for him instead of a wooden stool and chains. Albus greeted a couple of friends, feeling a bit uneasy as he passed by Sirius Black. They were already on the outs and this could only worsen Black's view of his political aims. The former prisoner of Azkaban had indeed started to politicise, much to Albus' surprise and chagrin. He got many friends in return - especially among the grey houses - and was also poaching at the edges of the light and dark power blocks. Some of his followers were conscience-stricken because of the past; others only wanted to be closer to such an important and rich house or were forced to support him because of some ancient money transactions that came to light after his release. So far however, Black hadn't abused his political might. Albus had been told about some strong statements from Black, most of them directed against the political power of Lucius Malfoy and Albus. In any case, Black had become in no time the third most influential leader within the Wizengamot and his influence grew with every week.

Albus sat down as Minister Fudge entered the courtroom, Madam Umbridge following suit. She wouldn't hesitate to attack him, as Albus already knew. Umbridge had been the one filling Fudge's ear with outlandish stories about Albus wanting to replace him. As if. Albus was no man to wish evil to anyone, but he certainly wouldn't cry a tear should something happen to this vile woman. Tiberius Ogden enforced silence with a couple of hammer strikes on the block and opened the session.

"This high house meets today because of some disturbing events that took place in Hogwarts yesterday evening during the choosing of the champions for the Tri Wizard Tournament. In order to first gain a neutral report of the events I give the floor to our first witness, Bartemius Crouch."

Barty Crouch, not the best witness in Albus eyes' but not the worst either. He would have preferred Ludo Bagman, but as Crouch was the former Head of the DMLE, his statement certainly carried more weight with the Wizengamot. The witness stood up and puffed his chest, starting to speak with a very serious voice, one telling of his consternation: "Yesterday evening as one of the five official judges of the Tri-wizard tournament, I was witness to the choosing of the supposedly three champions to take part in the event, the others being Mister Bagman and the three Headmasters of the involved schools. The evening started as usual. After the obligatory speeches, the Goblet of Fire started to release the paper slips with the champions' names: Viktor Krum as a champion for Durmstrang; Fleur Delacour for Beauxbatons and the British champion called one Harry Potter."

Chatter erupted from all sides. Albus noticed a hint of disgust as Crouch mentioned Delacour's name. He was surprised at this unprecedented show of prejudice towards Veelas. Harry's name received the expected mix of "our golden boy" and "isn't he too young", but most of the Wizengamot members weren't all too surprised about it.

"That however, was when utter chaos started and Great Britain became under the scrutiny of the whole world anew. The Goblet of Fire is an old artefact, supposedly beyond any mortal's ability to mess with magically. You certainly can imagine my surprise and horror when the Goblet released not only three but four names." He nodded gravely, allowing the Wizengamot to calm down again after another round of wild and chaotic chatter. Crouch described the sudden appearance of the fourth champion, his reaction to Dumbledore and the name on the fourth slip of paper, more than once interrupted by outcries from the audience and certainly laying it on thickly with the "tragedy of the moment". Crouch sighed deeply. "So, we had four champions on our hand instead of three; and more importantly two boys-who-lived, two defeaters of You-know-who, two Harry Potters that threaten to tear apart the high repute of our grand nation. In my humble opinion we have to act fast and decisively to minimize the repercussions. And we certainly…"

"That will be enough, Mister Crouch," luckily Tiberius Ogden stopped the sermon. "We asked you to describe what you witnessed, not to entertain us with your political wisdom." There were some sniggers from the other Lords, but some damage was certainly done. "Headmaster Dumbledore, please explain what you can concerning last night's events. How was it possible for the Goblet to choose four champions instead of three and what do you know about the identity of this second Harry Potter?"

"Esteemed Lords and Ladies of the Wizengamot," Albus started, doing his best to look venerable and trustworthy. "The Goblet of Fire is an artefact of old, created of some of the strongest magic. Still, it is possible to influence it given the right mix of knowledge, talent and preparation. Right this moment, some of our greatest experts are examining the Goblet. They will get to the bottom of the affair, and learn who messed with this holy part of our history, so that this damning event may never repeat itself." Those experts were the Professors Flitwick, Babbling and Vektor. Albus knew quite well what they would be able to detect and what would stay hidden forever. His reputation was safe, at least in that regard. "As far as we were able to learn, someone messed with the Goblet, confounded it into thinking four instead of three schools were participating this year. The fourth champion was declared the only student of this fourth school, so the Goblet had no other way than to choose him."

"Do you think this fourth champion was behind the deception?"

"No, I'm quite certain he was not. Before yesterday evening, he had never entered Hogwarts. He has neither the wish to participate nor the necessary magical education to implement those changes. He made it quite clear that he only wishes to depart again as soon as possible and only stayed to allow us to examine the Goblet first." Albus had thought about putting the blame on Harry, but with him living out of the country until yesterday, it simply wasn't believable.

"We will accept this – for now," Tiberius Ogden decided. "While this whole mess with four champions is deplorable, it is nothing against the nightmare that lies in the identity of this newcomer. As Mister Crouch already told us, it was suggested his was the real Harry Potter. Is that correct?"

"Actually, the young man calls himself Harry Evans, after his mother." That earned the boy some sneers and bad will from the purebloods. For them it was some kind of blasphemy not to use the name of his father's house. "But he declared that he was born Harry Potter."

"How is this possible? I always assumed Harry Potter was living among us, with the Weasleys to be exact." Tiberius Ogden glanced towards Arthur Weasley. Albus' friend – perhaps former friend now – watched the exchange with clenched jaws. Luckily, Molly wasn't around. Her presence would have certainly led to explosive shouting.

"To explain this, I have to speak verbosely of the past. Please be patient with me and allow me to tell you of the events of November 1981, a time of troubles and a time of new hope; a time we all celebrated the annihilation of one of the greatest dangers to our society, the time when young Harry Potter's tragically became our national hero."

.

And they listened.

He told them about his plight, the political dilemma in a time of uproar. The masses wanted to hear news about their hero; the newspapers demanded pictures and hundreds of people wanted to send their best wishes, thankful letters and every kind of gift imaginable.

"It would have broken our population to learn about its hero vanishing only days after the demise of Voldemort. It would have stopped our society from recovering, and cancelled every hope of making peace."

That silenced quite a number of his staunchest opponents. While many of them would have silently applauded the death of Harry Potter, they were well aware of its possible repercussions. Everybody would have believed Harry's disappearance to be a sign of some former Death Eater taking his bloody revenge. The public opinion would have turned vengeful towards them, seriously threatening any hope of getting scot-free. Perhaps bribery and the Imperious defence wouldn't have worked like they did. Thinking about it, Albus wasn't certain if it wouldn't have been the better course of action, sacrificing young Harry to get a serious clean-up of the society. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty.

The Wizengamot wasn't happy, far from it. They scolded him for not telling them sooner. They condemned him for deciding this on his own instead of making an arrangement with the Minister at least. Minister Fudge certainly saw it as additional proof for Albus secret world domination plans. But in the end, they were only unhappy about the manner he handled it, not the solution itself. Didn't that damned Werewolf force his hand? Hadn't it been that Muggleborn witch who ignored old traditions and nearly made an ancient bloodline go extinct? It was clear to them that neither half-breeds nor Muggleborn would ever be fully integrated into their proud society; they simply didn't understand their values.

And the pretender? He was only a Muggleborn, and an orphan to add. He should be happy about the chance he was given by getting not only a loving family – even those who despised Arthur Weasley's lack of ambition and ridiculed his poverty at least acknowledged that he was a good father – but also more money and fame than he could ever hope to achieve otherwise. It wasn't like anybody missed the boy. As expected, the simple fact that the victim of his plot was "only a Muggleborn" saved him. Albus hoped that they never learned the truth.

Hours later, Albus was allowed to go home, a little shaken and exhausted, but his reputation mostly restored and intact. There was still much to do, and the case of Potter's abduction certainly wasn't closed. But in their eyes he had done the right thing. They would watch him closely, especially how he further handled the situation, but for now he was off the hook.

 _Simpletons, the bunch of them._

.

 _ **On the road again**_

.

They had left their cosy home at an ungodly hour. Jenny hadn't been able to wait a moment longer. The uncertainty had made her physically ill and Floe wasn't in a much better shape. At four AM she had nearly dragged Remus out of the house towards Paul's living cave. It was still dark out there but that didn't stop her or slow her down one bit. Making good use of her night vision, she found her way with the sureness of a sleepwalker, and the local wolf and bear population knew better than to annoy her tonight. Paul had already been expecting them, having known Jenny long enough to anticipate her hastiness to get to Scotland.

A couple of minutes later, they were on the road already. It was a weird and creepy experience, one that was very new to all of them aside Paul, who had instigated the Dreamwalk, and Floe who used a similar method for crossing vast distances. They more or less followed a Leyline. That at least was something Remus was able to feel and understand. But the landscape around him was strange and more than a little frightening. As both a wizard and a werewolf, this certainly told something about the nature of their path.

In principle, it was a landscape not too different from the one they had left behind: trees, meadows and small creeks. But everything had a dream-like quality, slightly nebulous and translucent. Even Remus and the others did not look completely real. And then there were the watchers, the creatures and… beings… standing between the trees, observing them like hawks, predators waiting for a moment of weakness. Remus shuddered and wished for a Portkey. But it wasn't easy to obtain a transcontinental one, especially on such a short notice and with a destination like Great Britain, a country that loved its regulations. On his last visit, he had chosen the Muggle way, taking an airplane via New York City. But that wasn't a possibility this time, not with Floe in tow, and a Jenny that could not sit still for ten minutes not to speak of an eight-hour-flight. So, they had to weather not only the Dreamscape but also the very real danger of those things.

Paul Masterson had changed into his true spirit form, a twelve feet short-faced bear. It was the biggest bear to ever walk North America, a creature that had gone extinct 11,000 years ago when his forefathers had been new to Canada, walking the land as nomadic hunters. A couple of minutes into their walk, The Racoon and The Wolf had approached them, and were now flanking the small group on their way to Scotland. Jenny felt a little better with her Spirit so close, and Remus hoped that the presence of The Wolf was a sign of hope. He had no idea how they were able to cross the Atlantic by a walk through the forest. But Paul had been adamant about this.

"Don't leave the path, ever," he had impressed on them. This was by no means a stroll in the park, but a rescue mission. From time to time, Remus saw… no, he felt… something behind the trees. There were places of might, not meant for humans to visit. He knew that the members of the Twelve Oaks Lodge used some of those places for their… how did they call it? Their Astral Quests. It made them stronger, gave them new insights and strange powers. Only six weeks ago, Harry had been part of such a gathering for the first time. It had been the finalization of the creation of his healing focus. At least two more such rituals were waiting for him in the future, perhaps more, an idea that frightened Michiko, among others.

"The Forbidden Forest," Paul gestured. Remus had already assumed so. The area was brimming with magic, and there were faint imaginations of creatures crossing their path. A couple of times he had identified a Centaur and once there had been a Unicorn watching him intently. He hoped he wouldn't be forced to take this path again, but at the same time it was an incredible experience, an experience he didn't want to miss.

Somewhat later, Paul stopped in the middle of Nowhere. "We are there."

.

 _ **Hogwarts**_

.

He couldn't say how long they had walked that path. There was no sense of time anymore, no feeling of the minutes going by. It had felt like hours, but according to his watch it could have been no more than fifteen minutes. Because of the time difference between Vancouver and Scotland it was going on 1 PM, just in time for lunch. Hopefully, Harry would be there. They wouldn't be able to keep Jenny in check otherwise. He shuddered a little at the thought of a Jenny rampaging through the castle and screeching for her Harry.

As they walked around the castle, Remus realized they had been able to bypass the wards of the school without effort. Did Dumbledore know about this weakness in Hogwarts' defences? Should he tell him? He decided against it. Perhaps he would need this backdoor one day. The school hadn't changed much since he left it behind fifteen years ago. There was some strange ship on the lake, and a herd of Abraxan Horses grazed near the groundkeeper's hut. He assumed it was still Hagrid who lived there. He had been extremely loyal to Dumbledore. Remus narrowed his eyes in fury, as he remembered that Hagrid had been the one to deliver Baby Harry to Dumbledore, and ultimately to the Dursleys. Michiko sensed his anger and calmed him down slightly by putting her hand on his arm. She knew him too well. He forced a smile.

As they approached the entrance, they found two girls waiting for them. One of them was a slim blonde, twelve years old or thirteen at most. She greeted them with a friendly wave and seemed happy to see them. Actually, it looked like she had been expecting them. How was that possible? The other girl was a bit older and had bushy, brown hair. She behaved protectively towards the blonde one, especially when Floe scuttled closer.

"Floe, behave," Jenny called out and the shepherd dog immediately obeyed.

"Hello, you must be Jenny," the blonde greeted her, before hugging her. It certainly looked funny, with Jenny being a head taller and far more athletic. "Harry said I would like you. I hope you'll like me as well."

Jenny blinked. Remus grinned. It was a rare moment to see Jenny this confused. The brown-haired girl relaxed a little bit and joked: "simply go with it, it is easier in the long run." Jenny nodded, still slightly confused, and watched the blonde girl patting Floe's head and ruffling his fur, something the huge dog happily endured. The older girl addressed Jenny's parents, executing a bow of exactly thirty degrees towards Michiko: "Konnichiwa." The pronunciation wasn't perfect but Michiko appreciated the effort.

"Konnichiwa," Michiko returned the greeting. "You know Harry?"

"Yes," the blonde replied and offered her small hand. Michiko shook it very gently. The blonde frowned for a moment. "I know both Harrys, actually." Ignoring Michiko's confused look, she turned to the girl at her side. "But one of them isn't Harry anymore, right, Mione?"

The older girl rolled her eyes. "You're confusing them, Luna. Perhaps we should show them the way to the Great Hall." Turning to Michiko she explained. "Harry is there with Michael, the boy that was known as Harry Potter until yesterday." She smiled softly. "Boy-bonding or something." Looking thoughtful for a moment, she added. "Michael took the news really hard. Harry is helping him handle things, and shields him from the gits. He is really thoughtful – for a boy." She offered Michiko another smile. "You really must have done something right about his education."

"Sounds like Harry," Remus was amused by the girls' antics. "I'm Remus Howell by the way and this lovely lady is my wife Michiko." They weren't actually married, but in his mind it was only a question of time, and according to her smile Michiko shared that sentiment. "Our daughter Jenny you know already and this is a good friend of ours, Paul Masterson."

Paul greeted them with a small nod. He had been silent so far, silently watching. He liked what he saw, this older girl's protectiveness and compassion and felt that the blonde girl was really unusual in her own way. Furthermore, he already had noticed the older girl's injuries, the limp and the ungainly shoulder, storing this away to examine later.

"I'm Hermione Granger and this ball of happiness is my sister Luna." The blonde had buried her head in Floe's fury and only now looked up. Without forewarning, she grabbed Jenny's hand and dragged her away. "Come, Harry is waiting."

The rest of the group followed a bit slower, with Michiko and Floe obviously struggling not to run as well. Soon they would see Harry again. _Soon_.

.

"HARRY!"

The scream was followed up by a flying tackle, Jenny jumping over table, benches and at least three students to reach her brother. He had no chance to avoid getting slammed into the ground, not that he cared. Jenny was here. Actually, she was more relaxed than he expected her to be and for a moment he wondered how this was possible. Then he saw Luna watching them with a proud smile. _So, she met Luna already and apparently, she has the same influence on Jenny as on me_.

Michael watched them with wide eyes, as did many other students. Harry noticed some of the older boys checking out his sister and narrowed his eyes. Standing up, Jenny dragged him into a crushing hug. He felt his ribcage tighten under the pressure and for a moment he wondered why he had been so eager to see Jenny again. Then he looked over her shoulder and saw his parents enter the Hall, with Paul, Floe and Hermione. "Mum," he whispered. It was barely twenty-four hours since he last saw them, but somehow it felt far longer. For her, it certainly had been worse, not really knowing what happened to him. _Shit_ , Harry remembered the Goblet. _They don't know about the Tournament_.

.

"What do you mean he has to participate?" Michiko growled. Harry expected her to change into Tiger form any moment now and put an arm around his mother to calm her down. He had never seen her this furious.

"Filius?" Remus ignored Albus and addressed Filius Flitwick instead, the one teacher he trusted among the gathered ones. The gesture wasn't lost on Albus. Lily had trusted Filius as well, and Remus hadn't forgotten the professor's help back then. His opinion about the other teachers present wasn't as benevolent. McGonagall had always been Albus lapdog and so far she behaved even worse. And the less he thought about Snape the better. Sprout was a wild card. As a Hufflepuff, he was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt. Albus and the four house heads had gathered in his office with Remus and Michiko, Harry and Paul. Jenny and Floe had stayed with Hermione and Luna, the girls wishing to keep Michael company. Jenny hadn't been amused about getting excluded, but Remus feared for her self-control. It was difficult enough to keep the enraged Tigress from slashing at Albus' throat without getting distracting by Jenny's outbursts.

"He's right, Remus," Filius answered with a deep sigh. "Septima, Bathsheda and I examined the Goblet. Someone has messed with it. Actually, we think several persons messed with the artefact's magic. Perhaps they tried to influence the choosing. Regretfully, we can't discern who these persons were, we only see the result."

"And the result is that our son has to participate?"

"Yes," Filius declared calmly. "He has a magical contract with the Goblet. And Michael has one as well. Both boys, Fleur Delacour and Viktor Krum, have to participate in the Tournament."

"Can't he, I don't know, step in and give up?" Remus asked, still trying to find a harmless solution. "You know: wave to the masses, being here without really doing anything."

"Regretfully, that isn't possible either," Filius declined the idea. "He has to make a serious effort. He doesn't have to win, not even to succeed in the tasks, but at least he has to do his best."

"Shit!"

"Yes," Filius smiled dejectedly.

.

"He'll need help to prepare himself for the trials." Michiko shut down her rage with all might and spoke as calm and controlled as possible. Somehow Dumbledore had a hand in this mess; she felt it in her guts. It had been the right decision when Remus returned some months ago not to go against the man. She would have to tell him so later. Back then she hadn't been the most understanding wife.

"Harry will have the help of his head of house…" Albus started, gesturing towards Professor McGonagall.

"My mother," Harry interrupted him without any respect, "meant someone I trust." McGonagall looked absolutely furious. "And anyway, won't she be occupied enough with training Michael?"

"Err, yes, there's that as well." So, both Dumbledore and McGonagall already had forgotten the boy, not that Harry was surprised. Remus noticed it as well and his opinion went down another notch. _Harry cares for the boy_ , he mused. _You did something right with his education, the girl had said_. Michiko really did. Lily would be proud of her son, compassion had always been a trait important to her.

"I'll be staying here," Paul calmly declared.

"You're no relative," Albus frowned.

"And as such I'm not as invested as others. I'm able to watch the occurrence without emotion, a neutral observer."

Albus eyes widened and he glanced at Harry's parents. It would be easier this way, certainly. The big man looked calm enough, less prone to temper tantrums. He had no idea how wrong he was. "That would be best, I think. Remus can't stay. It's too dangerous for him. I don't know how the DMLE will react to the abduction." There was the very real threat of Azkaban. Remus had heard enough about the new werewolf laws to realize the imminent danger.

"Harry will need someone for his Adept training as well," Michiko added. "So, either my daughter Jenny or I have to stay. Jenny already offered to help," she nudged him. Michiko would have loved to stay but hadn't the heart to tell Jenny that she had to return to Canada.

The choice was easy for the headmaster. This woman put the fear of Merlin into him. He had no idea why but there was something about her, something animalistic and predator-like, that made him feel like an oversized mouse. Yes, the girl was certainly the better choice.

"Then we have an agreement," he smiled grandfatherly.

"One last thing," Remus stopped him cold. "Floe will stay with Jenny."

"Floe?"

"The dog," Snape interjected, guessing correctly. "A Highland Shephard, is he not?" McNair had tried to train one for Muggleborn-hunting in the last war. The attempt had failed as the dog simply lacked the inherent bloodlust. McNair even had to take the dog down, as the animal had tried to defend one Muggleborn girl instead of mauling her. McNair still bore the scars of that incident.

"He is," Remus affirmed. "very close to both teenagers. Harry is even able to speak with him."

"That's interesting." Albus eyes sparkled. If it came to the worst, it was a weak point of Harry's that could be exploited. "I agree."

.

The conversation continued for a while, much calmer now with the most serious arguments taken care of. Paul would offer a course in Shamanistic Healing and help Madam Pomfrey. He and Jenny would get a hut near Hagrid's, with Jenny helping the giant now and then. She intended to visit some of the theory classes, but it wouldn't be possible to fully integrate her into the school curriculum. It already was hard enough with Harry. They agreed upon to get him a wand at the earliest opportunity. Albus had a creepy smile on his lips as they mentioned the topic. Despite him being old enough to join the fourth years, he would try his hand with the third years first, especially as he wanted to visit the Runes and Arithmancy classes.

"This way, I can learn from Hermione and Luna as well."

"Ginny Weasley will certainly…" Albus started, his wish imminent to get his dream couple paired up as soon as possible.

"Miss Weasley has enough trouble with her own school work," Snape calmly interrupted. Something about the girl made him nervous and troubled him deeply. The thought of her getting near Lily's son disturbed him. "Miss Granger is all-round the best student of her year, and I'm certain than Miss Lovegood would be the best shot at understanding Mister Evans and his unusual former education. Miss Granger is a very good tutor and Miss Lovegood is anything but a case of stereotypical thinking."

Filius was surprised about Snape's high opinion of the girls. He mostly left them to their own devices, but as far as he remembered Snape had never said something positive about them. Not that he complained. Filius shared the assessment in full.

Remus shot his former nemesis a thoughtful look. Perhaps he had erred in this case. Snape was still a git and the pure sight of him caused Remus a bellyache. But with him thousands of miles away, Harry could certainly use another friend or at least ally. They left the office a bit later, and Remus drifted towards the potions master. The reception was frosty at best. Before Remus had a chance to say something, Snape calmly declared: "I'm doing this for Lily and for her only. I don't know why, but she wanted you to take care of the boy. It looks like you did well for more than a decade. He needs protection from the old meddler, we both know that. I'll continue your work while he is here, but don't expect me to befriend the boy or even worse, you."

"Thank you, Severus." Remus accepted the explanation. He hadn't expected anything else. Actually, he had expected far worse.

"Go with Merlin, Remus… but go." There was a hint of a smile, perhaps only his imagination.

.

Michiko and Remus had departed. They would be allowed to watch Harry during the first task, with Remus under some Polyjuice disguise. Harry was immensely happy to have Paul, Jenny and Floe around, but somewhat was still troubling his mind.

"Jenny," he started, nervously playing with his sleeve. "You know I'm really happy to have you here."

"Yes," she drawled and narrowed her eyes, her hackles rising. Luna and Hermione were watching the exchange, feeling uneasy about it.

Harry gulped. "But it's your last year at school. You were in anticipation of your time in Japan. I know that. Doing this, you'll lose a full year. You'll learn next to nothing at this school. Have you really thought about it? Don't you want to go back home, finish school and transfer to Sensei Azuke's academy next summer instead of squandering a year here with me?"

For a moment, Jenny was utterly calm and didn't move a muscle. Harry already guessed that he said something really stupid, before Jenny exploded into action. She whirled around and executed a spinning kick. Her foot connected with his chest and Harry felt himself fly through the air. With a heavy noise he slammed to the ground. A second later, Jenny found two protective girls in her face, the blonde one protective of Harry while the other one tried to shield her sister.

"Wait," Harry mumbled from the ground. He groaned. That had hurt. "I deserved that."

"Yes, you did," Jenny snarled. "If you ever again imply that anything would be more important to me than to protect you, you won't have to fear anything else ever." She took a shuddering deep breath. "Harry, yes, I will lose a year. Yes, I won't learn all too much around here, the curriculum is too different. But you're my baby brother. It's my duty to protect you. I promised it ten years ago and I'll never forget that promise." Watching her in that moment, Hermione and Luna had no doubt that the girl wouldn't hesitate to fight even Dumbledore and the Nine Hells to protect her brother.

"Duly noted." Harry was even able to smile, before it turned into a groan. "And now, could my big sister pretty please bring me to Paul? My ribs are hurting. I think you cracked one or two."

"You're a real cry baby, are you not?" Jenny mocked. But she was careful not to hurt him further as she helped him up. She grimaced. _Paul won't be happy about this_.

.

He was not.

To Jenny's and Harry's relief, Paul was slightly distracted by Hermione's presence. More than once he glanced in her direction and opened his mouth, only to close it again.

"What?" Hermione snarled, angrier than she intended. She blushed. "Sorry. I mean: what do you want to ask?"

"It's about your injuries, Hermione," Luna calmly replied.

"What?"

"How do you know?" Paul wondered as well.

"Silly," Luna rolled her eyes. "He looks like every teacher that is reminded of your injuries. Paul wants to ask something about it but doesn't know how to start without insulting you." Without further addendum, she flicked her wand and vanished Hermione's robe.

"LUNA," Hermione screamed.

Harry gasped, not because of the visible injuries but because of the sight of a girl in underwear. Jenny turned him around and scolded him for not remembering his manners. "Prat!"

"He's a healer, Hermione," Luna wasn't fazed by Hermione's outburst. "It's easier this way." Ignoring her sister's fumes of anger, Luna addressed Paul: "can you help her? She doesn't say, but it really hurts her that nobody can heal her limp." Her words stopped Hermione cold. The girl blinked back the tears. She had learned to live with her limp, accepted that British Medicine wasn't able to do more about it. They had told her she had to endure it for the rest of her life. It would never go away. Presumably it would sooner turn worse in later years. But Luna looked so hopeful right now, that Hermione allowed herself to feel hope as well, at least a tiny bit.

"Please sit down," Paul pointed towards a chair. "I have to examine you before I can tell. Shamanistic Healing is very different to wand-waving. Perhaps I can do something to better your condition. Would it be okay for you when I talk with Madam Pomfrey about your case?" Hermione sat down and nodded calmly.

"We leave you alone for a while," Jenny announced and dragged Harry and Luna away. "She's in the best of hands."

.

 _ **Diagon Alley – November the 2**_ _ **nd**_

.

Luna pouted while the group of teenagers walked down Diagon Alley. Jenny had told her about her mode of arrival at Hogwarts and she would have loved to see this dreamscape she described. Flooing to Diagon Alley was more than a bit boring in comparison. Paul may be willing to make a small excursion with her later on. Madam Longbottom was in charge of the small group and had allowed Hermione and Luna to accompany the boys. Jenny and Floe had to stay at Hogwarts, this time at least. Alice had clear orders about their visit to Mister Ollivander. She didn't like them one bit, but would comply nonetheless. However, she intended to do so in the most caring way. Michael Bain didn't deserve this. His whole world was crumbling around him, and now Albus Dumbledore wanted him to lose even more.

Hermione used the walk for some last moment explanations about the nature of wands. Luna distracted Michael with stories about some creature her father presumably discovered. He didn't really believe them – and Alice wasn't certain how serious this was either – but it was nice and quite relaxing. Passing through the Alley, they thought about visiting some of the other shops after their wand business. Flourish and Blotts to get school books was a must as well as the Cauldron Shop. Madam Maulkin to get some robes and perhaps an owl from Eeylops Emporium. Perhaps not, Alice mused, he lived too far for an owl to travel and Filius had said something about this special spell Harry used for communication. She glanced towards Michael. But he could use one.

They entered the shop and only had to wait a minute before Ollivander appeared from its depths. _He's behaving like the shop is far bigger than it should be_ , Alice mused. "Hello, Mister Ollivander. Young Harry here is in need of a wand."

"Oh, hello." He blinked owlishly. "Mister Harry Potter I presume?"

"Evans," Alice gently corrected him.

"Harry Evans," Hermione uttered a little more assertive. Harry smiled, liking how they supported him.

"Evans, right," Ollivander was only slightly taken aback and hastily recovered. "well, let's have a look…"

"Actually," Alice stopped him. "Actually, Headmaster Dumbledore left me some orders regarding this visit to your shop."

"Orders?" Ollivander was annoyed now. "And what order, pray tell, has the great Albus Dumbledore for me this time?"

"This time?" Hermione mumbled. A bit louder she asked. "Does he often meddle with the wand choice? I mean, the wand choses the wizard, does it not?"

"In theory, yes," Ollivander glanced towards Michael. The boy paled a little. He looked around, stared into Alice's eyes for a moment and saw how uncomfortable she had become.

"He had a word in my wand choice as well, did he not?" Michael asked Ollivander. The shop-keeper simply nodded his face a mask of loathing. "That's the reason I have a wand that hates me," Neville muttered. He breathed heavily. "Every time I cast a spell with it, it feels like I have to hammer it threw a drinking straw. It was so much easier with…" He stopped, his eyes widened. "with Madam Longbottom's wand it was different."

"The Aguamenti," she remembered. "That's why you created a little river when I asked you to water them carefully."

"Sorry," Michael blushed.

"Wait a minute! Just to be perfectly clear," Luna growled slightly. Her voice shocked the ones who didn't know her personally. Growling was usually Hermione's job. "Our much-loved and respected Headmaster," only a dumb and deaf listener would have missed the biting sarcasm in her voice, "somehow decided that _this_ was the perfect wand for Michael, who everyone else assumed to be Harry Potter. Now, with the real Harry around, he suddenly changes his mind and wants the wand to change hands as well, generously allowing Michael to choose an appropriate wand after all. Correct so far?"

Nobody scolded her for her choice of words. Alice Longbottom and Ollivander nodded.

"What's so special about this wand?" Harry wondered. It looked ordinary enough.

"I bet it's something about Voldemort," Michael calmly interjected. Only Ollivander flinched at the name. The others only looked slightly confused. Michael shrugged. "Everything about me is also about Voldy. Or was… I assume this will change as well." For once he looked happy.

"Sounds reasonable," Hermione decided, turning to the shopkeeper, daring him to answer the question.

Ollivander gulped. "The young man is correct. You-know-who had a brother wand of this one."

"How can wands be brothers?" Alice asked. "Same core, same wood?"

"More than that; the wood has to be from the same tree, the cores from the same animal." Hermione corrected the knowledge still fresh on her mind from her late-night reading. Ollivander nodded slightly impressed that someone knew this obscure fact about wand-crafting.

"In this case both wands have feathers from the same Phoenix as their core," he added.

"Fawkes," Michael wildly guessed. There weren't many Phoenixes around.

"Right in one," Ollivander agreed.

Michael offered the wand to Harry, not a hint of hesitation or regret in his eyes. This alone told Alice and the girls how much he despised his wand. Harry accepted it and flicked the wand. Some brown sparks erupted from it.

"Interesting," Ollivander watched him closely. "The wand seems well-partnered with you but not the best match. Let's try something else."

.

They left the shop an hour later. Harry decided to keep Michael's old wand, but got another one as well. Spruce wood and the hair of werewolf tail, "very good for organic transfigurations," Ollivander told them. Alice even thought about getting Harry a third one later, but she had to speak with Paul Masterson first: Wood from one of the local trees of Harry's home, and perhaps some hairs from Floe. Alice remembered how she had been here with Hermione after her troll incident. The girl had been changed by the injury, enough to be in need of a new wand. The same had been true for Alice after her long sleep. And now Michael got a new wand as well. It was very similar to her own wand, "good for Herbalism". Perhaps, with his era of being the boy-who-lived ending, he would be allowed to follow his own desires at last; one good result at least out of this heap of dung.

"Do you have an owl?" They had tried to be fast with the books and potion equipment. Now they had to wait for Harry to get his robes, and had a bit of free time on their hands.

"No, I use the school owl," Michael responded.

"Come," Alice ushered him into the Emporium. There were dozens of owls waiting, some dozing off, and others watching them carefully. "Which one do you like?"

Michael looked around. There were so many of them, it was difficult to decide. However, his eyes were drawn to the one that resided above the rest like a queen holding court.

"That one?" Alice had noticed his glances. He nodded shyly.

"She's gorgeous," Hermione gushed.

Alice nodded, "regal."

The snow-white owl seemed to share the opinion. She bopped her head and looked expectantly.

"But…" Michaels started.

"It's a gift," Alice clarified.

"I could never repay."

Alice shrugged. "I said it was a gift, did I not? And if you really want to repay me, I could always use some help with the greenhouses."

Michael's smile was face-splitting. "I'll call her Hedwig."

Hermione watched the scene with an emotional smile. Luna looked thoughtful, her eyes slightly narrowed. Her thought right now would have terrified the great Albus Dumbledore.

.

 _ **Hogwarts**_

.

Albus Dumbledore hadn't been happy about Mrs Longbottom's report. Apparently, he had expected Madam Sprout to be the errand lady of the day, chaperoning the pair of boys in a neutral manner and without any girls trailing behind. The fact that Madam Sprout had handed over the job to Alice didn't sit well with him. Obviously, he had been most interested in Harry's reaction to his new wand, showing annoyance when Alice told him about the mediocre connection and how much better the other one had been. Albus' thoughts about the matter differed: for him, the boy changed because of his time far away, learning those strange and lesser kinds of magic. Alice couldn't read minds, still his face had been telling enough.

What really had pissed her off was his disinterest in the other boy. Only two days ago Michael had been his golden boy and Albus had influenced every part of his life. He had chosen the family he had to live with, had never hidden how he directed the teachers and even a couple of students about how to treat him. Alice was certain Albus had been the mastermind behind Michael's former close-knit band of friends and the adventures of the past three years, a band that dwindled down since Halloween. Only one of his old friends, one of the Patil sisters, still cared for him. In the past, Madam Sprout had had stories to tell about this, especially about Dumbledore's disappointment regarding Michael's lack of heroism and brashness. Two days had been all the time the old meddler needed to switch off his interest to the new boy. He had barely listened to her explanations, only pricking up his ears as Alice told him about the new wand's similarity to her own.

His reaction had been weird; his hints not to attach herself to the boy even more so. There had never been problems with teacher-student friendships and mentorships in the past, as long as they stayed professional. No romantic entanglement – Alice shuddered at the thought, luckily Michael had never show any signs of a crush – and no favouritism. Even that was not cast in stone, as Snape proved every day of the year. So, why had he wanted the boy to be friendless? Or was it only his friendship with her that Albus rejected. Why? Something was going on, something creepy. And she would get to the bottom of this.

.

Albus just had to stop this. Alice Longbottom couldn't be allowed to spend too much time around _Michael_. If she ever found out the truth, it would become a disaster of epic proportions. Better the boy was kept away. Perhaps he should even find a way to get him out of the land. Certainly, a reason could be found easily, something about protecting the boy from his past. But he had to tread carefully. While the Wizengamot had acquitted him of any charges, many teachers and parents weren't happy with him in the least right now.

 _I'll address the matter after Christmas_ , Albus decided. The time should be enough for everybody to live it down. _Yes, my boy, after Christmas we'll find you a nice new home_.

.

Tom was content so far. He already had a couple of ideas about solving some of the riddles that were troubling him. The books had been helpful. One of the benefits of Wizards' longer life and the duration of the same person handling a job for decades had been the small fact that the wards around the forbidden part of the library hadn't changed very much since his own school time fifty years ago. It had been easy to break through them and some of the books he perused had a couple of possible solutions to offer.

He had already gathered hairs from Harry Evans and Michael Bain. Blood would be even better but harder to get by. Draco Malfoy could prove helpful about that. A little quarrel, a few blows exchanged, et voila, he would have his blood. At least with Bain it was possible, with Evans not so much. Tom had a hunch that a Malfoy/Evans fist fight would be VERY one-sided. Still, it shouldn't be too hard to learn about the boys' identities. With Evans it was confirmation only, but with Bain it could turn out very interesting indeed.

Regretfully, he hadn't made any progress about who was responsible for two Harry Potter getting drawn from the Goblet. He expected the Headmaster to be part of the explanation – all three Headmasters actually in a way. But there still had to be one more party involved in the whole affair. But who? A teacher? One of the other judges? But why? Tom sighed a little angry. _I'll solve this mess and soon_ , he had no doubt. And then he would have to decide what to do with the knowledge.

Knowledge is power, and nobody knew better than him how to use it.

.

 _ **British Columbia**_

.

"Everything will be alright." Michiko snuggled into his side. It was weird to be all alone in the house. For more than a decade they had always been four. Never before had the beds of Jenny and Harry been empty for more than a weekend. Now, they would be away for more than seven months – the school breaks aside.

"This tournament is dangerous," Remus sniffed. "There is a reason it didn't happen for two centuries. Participants died, sometimes even spectators as well. And then there is someone who placed his name in the Goblet. It certainly wasn't a fan."

"He has Jenny," Michiko placated him. "Floe is there and Paul as well. They'll protect him."

"You're right, as always," Remus relaxed a little bit.

"And don't you forget it," Michiko teased him. "Perhaps it's a good thing he's there. You know, see Hogwarts for himself, and meet the teachers. And then there are the girls."

"They're something, aren't they?" Remus agreed.

"This Hermione reminds me a little of what you told me about Lily."

"Clever, likes to learn and with a temper to boot?" Remus smiled softly, the image of his late friend on his mind.

"Yes," Michiko nodded. "And Luna… I've never seen Harry connect so fast with someone."

"Not since he met Jenny." Remus was deep in thoughts for a while. "Have I told you how James and Lily met for the first time? It was on the first journey to Hogwarts. James saw her and he just knew she was the one. He needed five years to convince her and he really had to grow up first, but he never wavered in his determination to win her heart. He once told me it had been similar with his father."

"Do you think it's the same with Harry now?"

"It's at least a possibility," Remus shrugged.

"He has never shown any interest in a girl so far. He's a flirt and Jenny told me that even a couple of her yearmates were interested in him, but he always kept to himself."

"Perhaps he was waiting for the right girl."

"One more reason to be happy about his time at Hogwarts… he would never have met her otherwise."

"No," Remus shook his head. "They would have met. Fate has its way. And Luna, she seems really special. I'm certain the simple fact of being separated by an ocean wouldn't have stopped her."

Michiko smiled softly. She actually agreed with Remus. There was something very unusual about Harry and Luna, something magical. "Paul told me the girl has the Sight."

"No surprise," Remus shocked her with his indifference.

"Why do you say that?"

"I knew her parents. Her father Xenophilius is a bit of a crackpot, nice and all but I'm certain his picture is in the encyclopaedia right below the word _eccentric_. But her mother had the Sight as well. I knew her in school, actually thought about her a couple of times because of Jenny."

"Perhaps it will be good for her as well, meeting someone with the same ability. It cannot be easy for her, not to fully share it with anyone, not even Harry."

Remus sighed and pulled Michiko closer. "We'll have to wait and see. I hope they'll write soon."

"Paul will make sure of it," Michiko ascertained him. "And we'll meet them again in three weeks."

"At the first task," Remus narrowed his eyes, the thought troubling him.

"At the first task."

.

 _ **A/N**_

 _Yes, Albus was able to save his hide – for now. I really think that "Michael" only being a Muggleborn would lessen the repercussions this much. On the other hand, abducting a Pureblood, heir of an Ancient House and nearly condemning that House to extinction, that's a completely different matter._


	12. Chapter 12 Old dog learning new tricks

**An old dog learning new tricks**

.

 _ **Hogwarts – unused class room**_

.

"Wingiardum Leviosa!"

Harry grimaced, his face a mask of concentration. He wanted to learn this, he really did. But using a wand for simple things like levitating and illuminating was simply weird. Why complicate matters like that? Gestures, words and wand-waving – why use such silly things when he was able to get similar effects with his will alone? Jenny, sitting in a corner with a book about the local fauna, smirked. She knew that voice of Harry's. It betrayed his impatience.

"You're saying it wrong. You have to emphasize it Wingi-Ardum Levi-Osa." Hermione explained – again. "Luna? Everything alright?" The blonde had started to look around, especially towards the dark corners of the room.

"I'm waiting for some troll to make an appearance," she explained mock-serious.

Hermione growled: "Not funny."

Michael paled as he realized what Luna was speaking about. It had been the same spell, the same sentence that had started the girl's quarrel with Ron and ended in a lonely bathroom with a troll and a broken girl.

"But it is," Luna smirked, winking towards Harry.

The boy sighed, slightly frustrated. "Why is this even necessary? Why can't I do it like this?"

While he was barely able to lift a book from the table using his wand, a single gesture – without wand or word – was enough to move the table itself around. Harry started to move his hand like he was following some unhearable melody and the table started to dance in the air. The book went flying and hit the ground with a bam, prompting Hermione to glare at the boy. With a flick of her wand she lifted it, the book practically jumping into her hand. Only Michael noticed that she didn't even use an incantation. Since Hermione's outburst towards Chang and Edgecomb two years ago, it had become easier for her to do simple magic without incantation, especially when she was annoyed or angry – like now.

"I think the wand allows you to do it faster and with a smaller amount of magic expended," the boy surprised the others with his insight. "And I presume the magic is used in a more precise way. This won't be a problem when you lift a book, but with others spells it certainly will. Finely tuned Charms and Transfigurations demand a precision that your Shamanistic spells seem to lack. Or you need to concentrate for a longer time, improving the first effect of your magic over time to get the desired result. Shamanistic Magic looks to me like it is a process like weaving a piece of fabric. Wand magic is like flicking a switch."

"Well said, Michael," Hermione praised him. Michael blushed. "Mostly, as I understood Mister Masterson, you have to learn our way of casting spells to know the differences, the benefits and drawbacks of both types of magic. Sometimes the Shamanistic approach will be more effective, sometimes not."

Harry sighed deeply. "I know… it doesn't mean I have to like it." He forced himself to smile. "But I really appreciate your effort."

Hermione shrugged. "I like to teach, and I had far worse students," she added with a smirk. "And Mister Masterson promised that he'll try to teach us a bit of your magic as well."

Harry frowned. "Don't expect too much, Hermione. Not everybody has a talent for Shamanistic magic. Neither Jenny nor my Mum were able to learn it, despite both having a sizable magical core. Your mind seems very… orderly to me." He made a cutting motion with his hand. "Orderly paths and orderly thoughts, you're trusting your intellect far more than your emotions. I fear that will stall your progress with the things Paul wants to teach you. I don't want to squash your hopes. Please try it. But don't be too disappointed if it doesn't work as well as you wish."

Hermione nodded slowly, looking a little down now. "Mister Masterson already said the same. We'll see."

"Did he already say anything about healing you?" Michael wondered loudly. He had heard the story about Luna vanishing Hermione's clothes. The brunette had glared at her sister for days after that.

Hermione shook her head. "He's still working on that. Apparently, the healing would be more effective if there was a connection between healer and patient."

Harry nodded. "When a healer really wants to help the patient, if his wish to heal him is heartfelt, the magic gets far stronger. Years ago, when I was four or five only, Jenny got hurt. I wanted to help her, badly. I had barely any idea of magic and certainly no training in the healing arts, but my magic reacted and I healed her nonetheless." Hermione's eyes widened: Healing magic, even if it sounded accidental, at such an age! She had never heard of such a thing. "If he gets to know you better his connection will grow as well. Or say, Luna learns Shamanistic healing that would be even better with the strong connection the two of you have."

"Can you see it?" Hermione wondered. "Our bond I mean."

"Not without the help of a spell," Harry responded. He pointed towards Jenny. "My sister is able to see it on her own, and I think Luna does too."

Luna nodded. "It's like a ribbon connecting us. You and Jenny have one as well, but yours is far stronger."

Hermione sighed. "I wished I could see such things as well." She put an arm around Luna's shoulders. "I trust Luna and I believe her, but it's often difficult to understand her explanations."

"It's like she's speaking another language," Harry mentioned his own feelings about his experience with Jenny. Hermione nodded. "At least I have my Awareness magic," Harry continued after a moment of silence.

"Awareness magic?" Hermione asked.

"We have other magic classes than what is taught at Hogwarts. One subject is basic magic; it's kind of a mix from your Charms, Transfiguration and DADA classes and even a bit of simple healing. A little bit of everything and not so many spells of every type as you learn around here. Apart from that we learn special branches of magic. You remember Jerry?" Luna nodded with a broad smile. She loved the cute squirrel.

"That's Summoning magic. It's about calling Spirits and Ghosts, how to deal with them and banish the dangerous ones. Watchers are the lowest form but most widespread kind we use. They're no real beings but develop their own intellect over time. Jerry is three years old and as clever a dolphin by now, a real Dolphin, not some kind of Flipper." Michael didn't get the pun, unlike Luna who had learned about Flipper and Lassie from the Grangers.

"You said Ghosts," Hermione stopped him. "You could call the ghosts of Hogwarts as well?" The idea didn't sit well with her. They were being in their own rights, controlling their own… existence.

"In a way, yes," Harry answered slowly. "I can't force them to appear, it's more like calling them. Like saying: _hey mister ghost, please come over, I want to speak with you_. They hear me and they may answer – or not. It's the same with the Castle Spirit."

Hermione blinked, as did Michael and Luna. "You know?" Harry asked, looking as confused now as did the others. "The Castle Spirit? Big Spirit? Covering the whole castle? You have no idea what I'm talking about, haven't you?"

"Not really." Hermione responded with a frown.

"We only know the normal ghosts, mostly the four house ghosts like Headless Nick. And there are Peeves and a couple of other ghosts," Michael explained.

"Don't you forget Myrtle," Luna added.

"Yes, Myrtle, how could I forget," Michael rolled his eyes. He blinked, suddenly thinking about something completely different.

"Everything okay, Michael?" Harry asked a little concerned.

Michael smiled weakly and a bit teary-eyed. "I just noticed how at ease I feel around all of you." This stunned the other teenagers, none of them able to find an immediate response. "Thank you all for being my friends."

Harry cleared his throat. "You're welcome."

The girls simply put their arms around the boy and hugged him.

.

"You were explaining the different branches of magic at your school." Hermione hadn't forgotten about the _Castle Spirit_ , but stored that information away for a later time.

"Yes, Summoning is one of them. Some of the other students concentrate on magic around plants or animals. I only learned the basics of Foresting, but it's an important part of our daily life. The bench I created? That's Woodcraft. Something I wanted to continue next year."

"Harry even got his first exam in Woodcraft this summer," Jenny spoke out. "You should have seen his Wolf statue. It was a real piece of art."

"Exam?" Hermione wondered.

Harry nodded. "The Canadian school system is different. We start earlier. Mundane lessons start at the same time they do around here, only everybody gets them, irrespective of their magical talents. Even when we start magical training, usually the fall after turning nine, we continue the mundane classes." It was a relief to be allowed to speak with the girls openly. After a longer conversation with Paul, the teenagers had decided to trust Luna and Hermione with details about their home. They hadn't been sure about including Michael, but Harry had been adamant. He really meant it when he said he wanted to become the boy's friend. And he hated the idea of forcing the girls to keep secrets from Michael.

"Oh, I whish that would be the same around here," Hermione gasped, feeling deeply jealous. "You have no idea how difficult it was for Luna and I to find a way to learn at least the basic subjects like English, Math and a bit of Sciences."

"You're doing that?"

"Yes, my parents are helping us," Hermione explained. "We have to do correspondence courses and use the breaks for catching up. We're still one year behind students our age – Luna's age to be exactly, because I'm doing classes with her. We still hope that we'll be able to take our SCE the summer after we finish our NEWTs. Perhaps we'll go to school the normal way after that for the last two years. I at least want to get my Higher Grade SCE."

"That would allow you to enter a University?"

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "Because we officially go to a Scottish Boarding School, we have to follow the Scottish School System, not the English one where my parents live."

"That's admirable."

"Thank you. But it's hard. Not to sound haughty, but I think it's only possible because Luna an I are very good students. An average one would be awfully behind. The British Ministry of Magic simply doesn't care for mundane lessons."

"Remus said something similar," Harry nodded slowly, remembering a conversation some time ago. "Apparently, it is possible to get a falsified certificate if you want to pretend a regular school visit. But you wouldn't really learn anything."

"No, you wouldn't. And I would hate to get a certificate I didn't earn."

"It was easier for us. It's still much work, but at least it is possible. Many students stop Mundane or Magical Education after getting their Junior Grade. It's like your Mundane SCE or your Magical OWL," Jenny interjected. "Because we start earlier with magical classes, it is possible to let us have one more year for preparations. Harry, for example, finished his Mundane Junior this summer. Without this little trip to Scotland, he would have sit his Magical Junior, your OWL, next summer."

"And you would have sit your senior exam the same time," Harry growled.

"We already discussed the matter," Jenny growled back. "Do you need a reminder?" She thoughtfully glanced at her foot – the one she had kicked him with.

"I don't think that's necessary," Luna distracted the siblings, sitting down beside Jenny and linking arms with the older girl. Harry and Jenny rolled their eyes, their mood instantly improving. It was impossible to stay angry around the blonde. "Harry, you were trying to explain Awareness spells. It's one of your classes, I assume, like Summoning, Foresting and Woodcraft?"

"It is," Harry affirmed. "It allows us to enhance our usual senses or to give us a sense we usually lack – at least the most of us. With Awareness I'm able to more or less comprehend what Jenny is speaking about if she explains the impressions she gets from her sight. If you want, Hermione, I could show you."

Hermione blinked and exchanged a soft smile with her sister, before she nodded. "Yes, I would like that."

.

 _ **Same time – Hospital Wing**_

.

"What are the requirements to get into this class you intend to offer?" Madam Pomfrey asked.

She was interested in seeing how Shamanistic healing worked and what the differences were to her own spells. Perhaps she could learn a bit of it herself.

"Talent and interest," was Paul's simple reply.

"Nothing else?"

"Those requirements will be difficult enough to fulfil. Interest, real interest in the healing arts, the wish to help others and to ease their suffering, is not something many teenagers feel. True, some have naïve dreams about becoming a healer, but as soon as they really understand the meaning of suffering, this will stop most of them. A Shamanistic healer feels the pain, he needs to do this to be able to help. It's not like charming a piece of wood or transfiguring a mouse, it's about establishing a connection on a very animalistic level. You and the patient are one. It's simple for the basic spells, for healing a cut or treating a cold. But the more complex, dangerous and life-threatening an ailment, the more disturbing the connection. That's why most members of my tribe are able to cure simple injuries and diseases but only a very few become real healers.

"The other requirement is about talent. Usually this wouldn't be a problem, but the students at Hogwarts spent their whole life with a special mindset. They were taught to only cast a spell with a wand. Accidental magic is regarded as kind of evil or at least something you have to learn to control not to do. It's uncouth, uncivilized. This mindset will work against their innate talent. The older the student, the more difficulty they will have. It's even worse for those with orderly minds, those that learn by the book and not by heart. I expect many Ravenclaws to fall into that trap. And it won't get easier if the student is from a magical family, as the mindset had more time to settle in. I expect that perhaps a fifth of your students, mostly younger years and no more than a handful from the NEWT years, will be able to learn the basics of my healing arts. And from them again only a fifth would be able to learn more."

"I see," Madam Pomfrey was a little disappointed. She knew about the interest the announcement of the new classes had caused. Yes, many of them wouldn't want to become a healer, it was more the interest in the Shamanistic Magic itself, but still it would be a first step.

"Don't be disappointed," Paul tried to sooth her worries. "There will still be enough students to fill some classes, and perhaps you'll learn a bit of it yourself. While your decades of weaving magic with your wand will work against you, your experience and your wish to help your students will be a big help as well. We'll simply have to see and try."

"Yes," Madam Pomfrey's heart got a bit lighter. "Let us try."

.

 _ **Hogsmeade – a couple of days later**_

.

The week had been interesting and exhausting for Harry and his friends. He continued to accompany them to their classes, some of them like Magical Theory he had with Michael, others like Arithmancy and Ancient Runes with the girls. It was obvious that he would need some time to catch up, presumably the bulk of the school year, despite the massive support he got. Luckily, not only Hermione and Luna were assisting him, but a couple of other students as well, most prominently among them the Patil sisters. Padma had gotten quite close with her housemates, and Parvati – as Jenny watched with a hidden smirk – was ogling Michael with more than a passing interest. The former boy-who-lived was flourishing under the girls' tutelage, his new wand obviously helping him. There were still episodes of depression Michael was unable to completely avoid, but they became rarer by the week. It certainly helped that Harry dragged him along for physical fitness training.

And then there were those teachers eager to offer a helping hand. So far, they had rejected any offer from "Grandpa Albus", the headmaster's far too obvious attempts to get close to Harry creeping him out. The same had happened to Hagrid. The girls had been a bit unhappy about the rebuke, but Harry had been adamant in following his father's advice about not trusting the groundkeeper. "He is too close to the Headmaster. Remus told me that it was Hagrid who delivered me to the Dursleys. If he really was a friend of my parents, as he's always claiming, then why didn't he know about Aunt Petunia's hate of magic? Why did he ignore my parents' wishes? Even with Sirius thought of as a traitor, there were still the Longbottoms and the Bones to think about." While the headmaster – in his function as Chief Warlock – had closed off the reading of his parents' will, the Longbottoms and the Bones had known about their wish to have Harry grow up with them. It had hardly been _polite_ to settle Harry with the muggles without asking any of those families for input. Ignoring Lily's very special preparations, he should have gone to one of those two families, and not into the "loving hands" of his aunt.

On the other hand, the help of other teachers had been willingly accepted, Filius Flitwick most of all. Remus trusted him and so did Harry. More than once the four teenagers spent the afternoon with the tiny teacher, learning and comparing magic. Filius, after nearly a century of using wand magic, would presumably never learn even the simplest Shamanistic incantation. However he was more than interested to see Harry in action and to learn as much as possible about the theory. He was especially interested in "Jerry" and how it compared to the Patronus charm. He even promised to teach them that spell at a later time. With the girls and Michael eagerly taking notes as well, their time certainly wasn't wasted. It also helped that Filius had a more than passing knowledge of other kinds of magic as well, as he had never been the type to limit his learning to wand magic only.

Another teacher spending a lot of time with them was Madam Longbottom. The official reason were remedy lessons for Harry in Herbology and Transfiguration – the latter because Professor McGonagall was a little sniffed about Harry's rebuke and pretended not to have the time to prepare Michael. The real reason was a very simple and emotional one: Alice felt more at ease around the teenagers than she had been since waking up years ago. Hermione had been her friend for years, Luna adding to this small circle one year later. Now, she was eager to get to know Harry. More than once the teenagers caught her watching Harry with teary eyes, her mind upon how life could have been without the attack of the LeStranges. Harry would have lived with her, growing up with Michael as his brother. The first time this idea really hit home with her, she had broken down in heavy tears. The boys had been shocked and a little helpless, but luckily the girls had been there; instantly moving in they had hugged their teacher like a dear aunt. What followed was an emotional afternoon with tea, a bunch of blankets and silly stories about Harry's childhood – told by a grinning Jenny and interrupted by groans and blushes from the boy in question. It had gotten better since then, and Alice was smiling more and more. This being the reason Madam Sprout and Madam Pomfrey had vehemently defended her presence even against the headmaster's wishes.

And so Harry learned more and more about Hogwarts, Britain and the way "civilized people" used magic. It was a whole new world with its own laws, history and customs and more than once he felt like an alien around the other students. In a way, the tournament was a hindrance and a relief at the same time. A hindrance, because he was unable to fully concentrate on the new stuff as he had to prepare himself for the first task; and it was a relief because the tournament regulations exempted him from assignments, tests and exams for its duration.

Hermione and Luna hadn't only supported Harry, but in return used his presence to learn something new as well. It was proof of their interest in his Shamanistic Magic that Hermione allowed her grades to slip from an average 98 percent to an unbelievable all-time low of 92. She didn't even bat an eye about it, something that shocked the other Ravenclaws to the core. While she realized that Luna had far more talent at this other kind of magic, she did her best to at least try her hand at it. Unbeknownst to her but not unnoticed by the other teenagers, the bushy-haired girl slowly changed. Eleven-year old Hermione had been a strong believer in books, laws and an organized mind. She would have struggled to learn even the basics of Shamanism, the approach being in stark contrast to her personality. This personality had first changed through her past experience and her friendship with Luna. Hermione had become more emotional and open to new ideas over the years. Now, she was taking a step further in that direction. With Harry's help and his Awareness magic, she was able to not only believe in Luna's weird stories but actually see the proof. The experience of seeing some of the things Luna had told her about in the past had made quite an impression on Hermione. More and more, she opened up, the change helping her more than she knew.

Luna had a far easier time getting involved with Shamanistic Magic. She had already learned a couple of easier spells and was besieging Paul with her wish to learn the Art of Summoning. He had declined her wish for now, but promised to give it a try when she was ready.

"Perhaps next spring," he had offered, not telling the girl that he was thinking about inviting her to Vancouver for a year.

Like Harry, she seemed to have a knack for both kinds of magic and he was willing to support this rare talent. He would have to talk to Martin about it.

.

Floe and Jenny accompanied them to Harry's first visit of Hogsmeade. Hermione was still baffled by Harry's ability to speak, really speak, with Floe. Howling and barking like two overgrown poodles, dog and boy obviously enjoyed their playful banter. Jenny had told them about Floe rescuing her best friend from abductors and how he was now allowed to even visit their school during classes. Looking at him, the dog nearly as big as a pony and weighing more than any of the teenagers, it was more than believable how Floe had routed those criminals.

"Luckily those bastards couldn't do magic," Hermione sighed.

"It wouldn't have helped them," Jenny shrugged. "He's not a normal dog but what we call a Paracritter."

"Paracritter?" Hermione wondered. She had never heard of such a thing.

"A Paracritter is an animal with a strong magical core, often accompanied by special abilities," Luna interjected. "Some researchers believe they're not fully on this plane of existence."

"So, Floe is more like a Kneazle or Thestral?"

"Kind of, yes. He has a strong magical aura, one I assume Luna is able to see." Luna nodded. "This aura deflects magic. It's not as strong as a… how do you call it? Protego? Not like that and it won't protect him fully, but weaker curses will be deflected like hitting a surface of water."

"Good to know," Hermione was relieved. "I was a bit concerned about him. There are students at Hogwarts who don't like Harry, not because of his personality but his name. Sometimes, people like those try to hurt you by attacking your pet." She looked a little distracted and sad, lost in her memories, something that didn't go unnoticed. Hermione wanted to walk on, but found herself whirled around and face to face with Jenny, a very close Jenny that scrutinized her through narrowed eyes – and very angry eyes to add.

"You're speaking out of experience," she realized.

Hermione stared to the ground and shuffled with her feet.

"What goes?" Harry had noticed them and stopped to play with Floe, much to the Shephard Dog's annoyance.

"Someone hurt … Crooks I assume." Jenny growled. "Am I right? Did someone hurt Crooks?"

The Half-Kneazle had gotten close to Harry and Jenny, even more so with Paul. Floe growled menacingly. The huge dog and the tiny cat had become close friends and he certainly understood more of the conversation than a normal dog would.

"It was last year, I got it solved," Hermione tried to placate them.

"What happened?" Harry's good mood was gone.

"Please let it rest," Hermione told them. "They already got their payback."

"I still want to know," Jenny decided after a moment of pondering the matter. "I won't do anything if you don't want to, but I want to know who is willing to hurt an animal."

Hermione shuddered at the sight of that pure fury in Jenny's eyes. She nodded slowly: "Alright, I'll tell you later."

.

"So, you're Harry's sister," Percy proffered his hand. He was the first boy her age that didn't ogle her arse since her arrival, something Jenny really appreciated. Not even Michael was immune to her "assets", but at least he tried. Perhaps it had something to do with the girl accompanying Percy. Their deep connection was obvious to Jenny. The teenagers had met the ex-student couple at the Three Broomsticks after Percy arranged a meeting with Hermione – and especially Harry.

"Jenny Howell," Jenny introduced herself and shook his hand. "And you look like a Weasley," she continued, her face telling him that she wasn't impressed by his family so far.

"Percy Weasley, and this is…"

"Penny Clearwater, Hermione and Luna mentioned the both of you." The girl relaxed a bit and even sent a smile Penny's way. Apparently the girls had told her not the worst about him.

"Hi Penny, hello Percy," Hermione and Luna approached their table and sat down after exchanging a short hug with the girl. They had left Harry and Michael outdoors with Charlie. Percy's brother apparently had something to tell them, and he wasn't happy about it. The girls would have loved to stay with them, but Charlie had demanded to speak with Harry and Michael in private. "I'm only here because Percy begged me to. This could cost me my job or at least earn me a demotion." So, they had left, anxious to hear what it was about.

"They told me something about what you did, the collection to pay for the Mandrake and such things," Jenny continued. "That's quite impressive. It's only a bit disappointing that students had to do this. It should have been the teachers' job." She was right about that, Percy admitted.

"I only organized it," Percy deflected the praise. "It wasn't my idea." The teenagers stared. Only Penny had known this so far. Percy looked around, looked thoughtful for a moment and cast a privacy spell. "Actually, it was Greg's idea."

"Greg? Gregory Goyle? But how? And since when are you on first name base with him?" Hermione wanted to know. Since Harry's arrival she had barely spoken two sentences with the boy and felt bad about it, now even more so.

"Yes, Greg Goyle. I met him in the hospital wing when you were petrified. We got into a conversation somehow and he mentioned how much you would hate to miss the lessons; that you didn't deserve it, not after… after the matter with the troll." Percy patted Hermione's hand, the girl being stunned by the news. "He felt really bad about it. He told me that he spoke with you about the troll; how he noticed your absence on that Halloween night and that you forgave him for not doing anything. Greg told me that you're friends but can't show."

"No," Hermione sighed. "It would be too dangerous for him." Her face turned angry and she clenched her small fists. "His father would beat him up … or worse." Luna put her hand on Hermione's in a soothing manner, and Hermione relaxed with a shuddering deep sigh. "At least his mother is on his side. But I don't know if it would be enough. Blasted purebloods!" She blushed a little. "Sorry, Percy."

"No harm done," Percy shocked them with his soft smile.

"Blasted purebloods!"

.

"Greg even remembered that obscure school regulation you told him about," Penny mentioned a bit later. Percy had explained it to her after she woke up. "Only because of it my parents were able to visit me. The other prefects searched the whole library for it and shoved it down Professor McGonagall's throat."

"He listened to me?" Hermione was flabbergasted. "I recited regulations from Hogwarts a History and he listened to me? And remembered it?" This was a unique and completely new experience to her. Suddenly her face darkened. "So, it wasn't Professor McGonagall who came up with this solution to allow my parents entrance and visit rights?"

"No, actually we had to be quite forceful to get her accept the possibility and go through with it in time instead of endlessly delaying it," Percy was visibly unhappy, while Hermione's opinion of the stern teacher plummeted even more.

"Greg is a good boy," Penny distracted her from her dark thoughts.

"That he is."

.

"He's in my class, you know. This Greg I mean." Hermione blinked at Jenny's statement.

"You have classes?" Percy wondered. "I thought you were…" He hesitated and looked thoughtful. "Actually, I have no idea what you are. Not a Muggle – that for sure, as you're able to see and enter Hogwarts. But what else are you?"

"A girl," Penny was helpful as always and patted her boyfriend's hand. Percy rolled his eyes.

"I'm an Adept," Jenny explained. "I'm… I believe you would call me a Squib. I have magic but I'm unable to cast a spell."

"Technically you aren't a squib," Hermione interjected, while Percy tried his best not to look uncomfortable. He had softened up a little, but two decades around Molly Weasley and her prejudices towards Squibs had left their ugly traces. "A Squib is someone with a Magical Index between 15 and 40."

"That's correct," Percy admitted. "An Index below fifteen denotes a Muggle or Mundane as you call them. And above 40 usually, but now always starts the ability to cast spells."

"Mister Filch has an Index of 28," Hermione continued. "It's too low to cast a spell, even with an individualized wand. We already tried it. However, it is high enough to use special Rune Arrays."

"You continued with your research?" Penny asked. She had discussed the matter with Hermione the year before.

"I did. Professor Babbling was very helpful; but back to the magical index. Professor Trelawney has an index of 61, high enough to cast simple spells, but too low to get admitted to Hogwarts."

"You need a 75 for that," Percy nodded. "But how do you know."

Hermione shrugged and blushed a little. "I might have used a spell to test it. I needed reference values, and Professor Trelawney and Hagrid were the most obvious and accessible testees. By the way: you can get a special dispense to enter Hogwarts if your index is at least 70. Hagrid got one of those back in 1940."

"Alright, so now we know that Mister Filch really is a Squib and – at least technically – Professor Trelawney is not. I assume Jenny is above this threshold of 40 as well."

"She is. I assume far above it actually. You're seventeen, am I correct?"

"Yes," Jenny nodded.

"So, her magical index isn't fully matured but close enough. Harry, Michael, Luna and I need a few more years for our cores to settle in. The average score for a Hogwarts NEWT student is around 100 to 110. A top student like Percy and Penny often but not always has a score around 130, sometimes even as high as 150 in rare cases."

"We got tested when we applied at the Ministry. Penny has a 141," Percy interjected. "I'm only a measly 128."

"Barely acceptable for a boyfriend of mine," Penny sighed with a big grin.

Hermione wasn't surprised. She expected having an index similar to Percy in her NEWT year, as she was above average but not a real powerhouse. "Headmaster Dumbledore supposedly is scratching at the 200. So far, I haven't measured Jenny's index, but from what I read about the Way of the Adept, you should have an index of at least 100 as well."

"She's higher," Luna stated calmly. "Far, far higher."

"You can see it?" Hermione felt jealous. She so wished to have Luna's talent. Yes, she got ridiculed because of it in the past, but still.

"I can guess the strength, yes. It's like how bright the aura burns. Your aura," she addressed Hermione "is approaching Percy's." No surprise there. "Harry's aura is stronger than Penny's already." More than one pair of eyes widened. An index of more than 140 at his age was quite impressive. "And Jenny … your aura is weaker than your Mum's and Paul's but stronger than the ones of Professor Flitwick or Professor Snape."

For a while utter silence reigned. The teenagers were more than surprised, while only Percy and Penny could really put that statement into relation. Both Professors were known as extremely competent duellists, both because of their quickness and the strength of their spells. "I don't understand," Percy said after a while. "With a magical core this strong, how is it possible that you can't cast a spell?"

"Paul explained it to me," Jenny muttered. "It's similar to being colour-blind. I'm only able to channel my magic into my body, making it stronger and quicker. I'm far better at physical fighting, because of it and it empowers my dancing and acrobatic skills as well. I understand the theory of spells, but it's like I miss the necessary nerve tracts to channel the spells."

"You must be incredible strong," Percy gushed.

"You know only the half of it," Harry grinned, earning him a playful push from his sister.

Penny looked thoughtful. She hadn't missed the statement about Michiko and Paul having even stronger cores. "And your mum is even stronger?"

"For now, yes," Harry nodded. "Both Mum and Paul strengthened their cores through rituals. It's only allowed if your core is fully stabilized, meaning you have to be 21 at least, preferably 25. In a few years, Jenny will certainly start that path as well and catch up – at least to Mum, perhaps even surpassing her. Paul is a very different case. He is a class of his own."

"Rituals? What rituals?" Percy asked darkly. He only knew a couple of very dark rituals to accomplish such a thing.

"Astral Quests," Harry explained, having no idea what thoughts were troubling Percy. "It's a mix of meditation and… inner voyage is perhaps the best description. It allows you a deeper understanding of magic and mostly of yourself. You get more in harmony with yourself. It's not like adding foreign magic but unlocking your own potential."

Percy didn't really understand but it certainly didn't sound dark in any way. Not that this would stop some of the more conservative purebloods from damning it. "Okay, I would like to hear more about that later. But back to the topic: I still don't know what kind of classes you have."

"I visit a couple of theory classes. Magical History, Astronomy, and Professor Flitwick tried to get me into a few lessons which focus on magical theory of Charms as well. But I didn't meet Greg in one of those. I'm giving a class on my own as well. Several classes actually. There was some interest in dancing and physical education, the latter among Quidditch players mostly." Michael had heard about it. Angelina had enforced the participation among her team. "And then there are my Karate classes. Its Muggleborn mostly that comes to my lessons. Actually, at the beginning Greg was the only pureblood one I know of that participates. He's quite talented." She didn't mention that he applied to her dancing class as well. Greg proved surprisingly good at dancing, not tournament-class but certainly not how she expected him to be. Especially his footwork was far more graceful than usual for someone his weight-class.

"He is?" Hermione was surprised. She knew Greg was strong and untiring, but she hadn't expected him to be quick or nimble enough for Martial Arts.

"He'll never win a tournament. He is too slow for that. But Greg is very dedicated and while his magical core isn't the strongest, he's quite good at channeling his magic into his body."

"So, he will not only be a Karateka but an Adept as well?" Harry immediately got the gist of her statement.

"Yes, he will," Jenny nodded. "At least if he continues the lessons."

"Why shouldn't he?" Hermione wondered, fearing that it was because of pureblood prejudice towards Muggle fighting.

Luna and Jenny exchanged a look. They obviously knew something that Hermione didn't. "With Greg being a fulltime student at Hogwarts he only has as much time for other activities, and it seems he has something different on his mind as well, something more important to him."

"Something different? What could be more important to him? Greg loves boxing and such things." Greg had mentioned it in every letter and it had somehow been quite relaxing to read about a matter the boy knew more about than she.

"He asked Paul to test him," Jenny calmly responded. "Greg wants to learn the art of healing. He wants to become a Bear Shaman."

.

Jenny's statement had shocked Hermione into silence. This answer she had never expected. Not only the fact that Greg would want to learn the healing arts was surprising her, but also that he was even thinking of going against his father's wishes. It was hardly a secret how Greg's father imagined his son's future. It had nothing to do with "being nice and compassionate", but more with the Dark Arts and cursing Muggleborn and Muggles. She had to speak with him. This could prove being very dangerous for him, even with his mother protecting him.

They were already on their way back to Hogwarts when Harry explained what Michael and he had learned from Charlie. "The first task will be about Dragons. Four dragon-mothers will arrive at the Forbidden Forest next week. Each of us Champions will have to draw one of them."

"You can't seriously expect a student to go against a dragon. That's work for a whole team of experienced handlers." Hermione was thoroughly distracted from her dark thoughts. This was nonsense.

"They don't want us to fight them. Each of them will have a nest with eggs. Only: one of those eggs will be a false, golden one. We need to get that egg, as it will contain a hint for the second task."

"As if this is any better; they want you to steal an egg, from the nest of a dragon-mother? Are they insane?"

Michael shrugged and shocked them with his deadpan answer. "It was Dumbledore's idea. He was at the Weasleys this summer, celebrating my birthday and such; and apparently for preliminary talks with Charlie."

Nobody knew what to say. It was hard to imagine how Michael felt about the matter. At his last birthday, he had still been the boy-who-lived and everybody wanted to celebrate him. Now, he had lost his status, his fans, and even the birthday wasn't his anymore.

"Alright," Hermione stopped their dark thoughts. "Back to Hogwarts; meeting in one hour at our usual place. We have work to do. Jenny, we'll need your input as well. And could you fetch Mister Masterson, please? I have a couple of questions for him." She was in full organizer mode now.

"About?" Harry wondered.

"Possible tactics for Harry and Michael," she replied like it should have been obvious. "How to get that blasted egg and survive. The operative word is survival." Harry smiled, thankful that she included Michael as well. The concerned boy was a bit overwhelmed. He had been horrified to learn about the first task, knowing that he had no chance in hell to finish the task against such odds, not with his limited talents. But now there was hope again. Without thinking, he stepped forward and dragged Hermione and Harry into a hug. It was the first hug ever he instigated outside his family – his former family. But right now it simply felt right and natural doing it.

"We'll find a way," Hermione told them, but mostly addressing Michael. "We'll find a way, don't you doubt it."

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Headmaster's office**_

.

Albus was a very unhappy headmaster. So far, Harry had rejected any offer of help from his side. The boy kept his distance, obviously Remus' influence. He couldn't even prosecute the Werewolf for his past misdeeds, because this would estrange Albus from the boy even more. On top of that, it wouldn't be easy to bring charges against Remus, not with the status of political ties between Great Britain and the USA. The American Ministry of Magic had accepted the adoption a decade ago and wouldn't be happy about British reproaches. _Damned colonies!_

"Any progress with Mister Potter?" He asked Minerva, ignoring that his official name was Howell now – or Howell-Evans. Ridiculous, simply ridiculous! He was Harry Potter, heir to the noble and ancient House of Potter. One day, he would have a seat in the Wizengamot, be another fighter for the light and supporter of Albus Dumbledore. He had no doubt about this, couldn't allow himself to have doubts.

"Nothing so far," Minerva grimaced. "He's keeping close to Filius and Madam Longbottom."

Another point of displeasure was the continued presence of Madam Longbottom. Harry had taken the former boy-who-lived under his wings, meaning that Madam Longbottom spent her time not only with Harry but with Michael as well. "You should have offered your help to Mister Bain." Minerva sipped her tea, not even deigning this statement an answer. Albus slammed his hand on the table, for a moment allowing him to lose his temper. "We have to separate them. We have to get Harry under control. He's spending far too much time … with the wrong people."

"With those girls," Minerva nodded, not seeing the problem with Madam Longbottom and Michael Bain. In her eyes, Alice was a "poor girl", but harmless. And Michael? In the end, Minerva was happy that someone was taking care of the boy. This way she had an excuse not to support him. His presence creeped her out. She was angry about the years of deception, and with her still supporting Albus, this only left the boy to venture her rage. "Granger and Lovegood, they have a bad influence on the boy." Granger despised her and Lovegood was a nutcracker. It wasn't healthy for the boy to have them around so much.

"Perhaps we should arrange something with Hagrid. Invite Harry for tea; show him some pictures of his parents, such things," Albus rubbed his hands. He liked the idea. Hagrid was one of his staunchest supporters, happily eating up every reason Albus offered for his past behaviour.

"He's keeping his distance to Hagrid as well," Minerva shot down the idea.

"Nonsense, everybody likes Hagrid," Albus claimed, completely ignoring reality. "Perhaps after the arrival of the dragons, Hagrid could arrange a meeting. A little forewarning is certainly appreciated."

Minerva wasn't convinced, but let it rest for now.

.

Minerva had left a while later, still miffed about "those girls". Albus however had other, more pressuring problems. More than two years had passed since he had been able to capture Tom Riddle's soul in the Mirror of Erised. For two years he had been working on the puzzle called Horcruxes. Tom had at least one of them, presumably more. So far, he wasn't one step closer to disclosure the exact number and nature of those Horcruxes. They existed; this was proven through the simple fact of Tom Riddle's soul being his prisoner. Tom was helpless and without any means to escape or influence his followers. Still, he had to solve the matter in the foreseeable future. Albus could hardly leave Tom in the mirror for his own successors to take care of it. At least, he had taken precautions in case of his own premature death: The Department of Mysteries would get the necessary information. Not that he liked the idea one bit of leaving Tom's fate to someone else.

Speaking of Horcruxes: the nature of one Horcrux at least was well known to him. It was resting in the Gryffindor boys' dorm right now, connected to the head, soul and magic of one Harry Potter. He had noticed it back then already when he examined the toddler, and it was still there. The aura of Dark Magic had been palpable. He assumed Tom had intended to create another Horcrux with the boy's death. His spell had backfired somehow, perhaps the Horcrux ritual interfering with the Death curse. The idea of Lily Evans somehow defeating Tom Riddle didn't sit well with the headmaster. In his eyes it was far more believable that even Tom could err with something as unusual and complex as the creation of another Horcrux. Perhaps it had been one Horcrux too many, the sheer amount of sheared off soul slivers too much to handle for the rest occupying his body.

Irrespective of what really happened, Albus had no doubts that there was a Horcrux in Harry's head, a Horcrux that had to be destroyed to permanently finish off Tom. Albus sighed. He felt no pleasure at the thought of killing the boy, but it would have to happen sooner or later. For now, he could be allowed to continue his life. First Albus had to find and destroy the other Horcruxes, an endeavour that could take a number of years. Then, and only then, he had to confront the boy with the mirror. On that fateful day, two souls would continue onto their next big adventure.

And he would be allowed to find his rest as well.

.

 _ **Shack of Paul and Jenny**_

.

Luna had left her sister to her books. Hermione had talked with the other teenagers and Paul about a couple of possible tactics to get the egg and to survive the silly task. Now, she was hugging her books, looking for something that could help Michael. It was easier and more difficult for Hermione to help her schoolmate, as he was far weaker than Harry but at least used a wand, making his talents more predictable for the girl.

Luna however had a different matter on her mind. She remembered a couple of talks she had with Jenny and Harry, how different their sibling link looked to the one Hermione and she shared. Both pairings weren't siblings by blood, so the explanation had to be a different one.

"Hello Luna," Jenny greeted her with a friendly smile and invited the younger girl into the shack she shared with Paul. Actually, he didn't use his part of the shack very often as he loved to vanish into the Forest, joining the Centaurs for some mind-boggling conversations or acting on his desire to go hunting. She waited for the day someone noticed the diminishing numbers of rampaging Acromantulas.

"Hello Jenny," Luna entered the place and sat down. "I have something I wanted to ask."

"Go on."

"Please tell me: what have I to do if I want to create a magical sibling bond."

.

 _ **A/N**_

 _Next chapter: preparations for the first task._


	13. Chapter 13 Preparations

**Preparations**

.

 _ **Hogwarts – unused class room – ten days until First Task**_

.

"So, both Fleur and Viktor are concentrating on the use of only one single spell to beat their dragon?" Parvati wondered.

Both Patils were brainstorming with the other teenagers about possible tactics to get that egg from the dragon's nest. Every single of the four champions now knew about the task. It was against the tournament's regulations, but still followed ancient traditions: alike the "uninfluenced" choosing of the champions, it was an old tradition of the participating headmasters to covertly inform their champions about what to expect from the task beforehand. Headmaster Dumbledore had done so too through Hagrid, but Harry and Michael both rejected Hagrid's offer to accompany him on a nightly trip to the forest. The big man had looked like a kicked puppy, but the boys hadn't bowed down.

"At least, both are training on one spell over and over using special dummies enchanted to offer a magic resistance like a dragon," Harry responded and fondled Jerry's chin. While the watcher wasn't a real animal with actual feelings, it was similar enough to be treated as one. And after observing the teenagers for hours on end he certainly deserved a bit of affection. "Fleur is training on some kind of sleeping charm and Viktor goes full-out with a spell called Conjunctivitus."

"It's a blinding curse, somewhat dark but still legal," Hermione explained, instantly recognizing the incantation from her preparatory reading.

"It's difficult to use those spells on a fully-grown dragon. Needs quite a punch of magic," Alice calmly interjected. As one of the teachers of Hogwarts, she wasn't allowed to help Harry – in principle. Not that she cared. Her status as his godmother – never revoked by Remus – gave her a loophole, one she intended to exploit. And if Michael Bain was present when she did, all for the best in her opinion. Not that the headmasters and teachers of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang even tried to hide their support and special training of their star pupils and champions. "Harry could pull it off, I assume, if he knew such a spell. However, it's too late to learn them now. And Michael, while better at casting spells with his new wand, doesn't possess the necessary magical core strength. Both will have to use different tactics."

"We'll find something. For a start," Hermione assumed control "let us split into two teams: Jenny, Paul and… Padma, you'll consult with Harry." It made sense. Jenny had the necessary adept background and Paul the shamanistic knowledge to understand Harry's abilities. Padma on the other hand had read everything about dragons and even visited Charlie once. After her meeting with the dazzling dragon handler, she had returned with blushing cheeks and a slight crush. "Parvati, Luna and I will try to find something for Michael."

"Why Luna?" Parvati asked.

Hermione was hard pressed not to roll her eyes. She only included Parvati because she obviously cared very strongly about Michael, not because she expected much practical help from the girl. "Luna knows even more spells than I do, especially of the low power and distracting sort. I think it's realistic to say that Michael should go with a _distract and grab_ tactic instead of openly fighting his dragon."

"That makes sense," Parvati responded, allowing a sliver of hope to conquer her heart.

.

 _ **Two hours later**_

.

Michael had left behind the other teenagers and was walking around the lake to clear his head. They had been going at it for hours, making plans and comparing ideas. Luna's help had been spot on, suggesting a couple of spells that could both be helpful and learnable in the few days remaining until the task. Parvati on the other hand…

The girl had been honestly concerned about him, terrified even. _Please be careful. Don't risk too much. Stay in hiding_. Mostly, she had suggested to try the Accio spell a couple of times and then sit it out. Not that he actually knew that spell. Not that it would count as a serious attempt. Serious had something to do with blood pumping, with adrenalin flooding his body and taking a risk. He had to show himself to the dragon, fight it openly and give it his best shot. Otherwise the magic of the Goblet would sentence him unworthy of the title champion. It would strip him of his magic, not killing him but damning to a life of a Squib. And while both Harry and Hermione had tried to reason with him, speaking about the comfortable life of Mundanes and how they would still be his friends if that happened, he couldn't live without magic, he simply couldn't. He had lost so much since Halloween, he couldn't endure another serious change.

The Harry Potter from the story books, the one saving the magical princess as a five-year-old and beating the most dangerous monsters before turning eleven, would have smashed the dragon to smithereens with his magical might. Or at least he would have been flying circles around it on his Firebolt broom. Michael had no Firebolt and he couldn't fly very well. Michael snickered for a moment. The real Harry Potter couldn't do it either, as he revealed to them a while earlier. It simply wasn't usual among The People and Remus hadn't started to teach it to Harry not to draw undue attention to the boy. And Michael wasn't the Harry Potter from the storybooks. He was only the "pretender". He was the backup plan, the boy Headmaster Dumbledore used to hoodwink the public and even the Weasleys.

He was Michael Bain and he had to find his own way to win the day. And he intended to do just that.

.

 _ **Same time**_

.

"You're concerned about him."

Harry nodded and stared into the fire. There was no real reason for Paul Masterson to start this campfire near the hut he shared with Jenny – aside from offering Harry a spot to feel at home and to think about whatever troubled him. Paul wasn't a well-respected spiritual leader of his tribe for nothing. "He won't be careful. Michael tries to be brave in the face of danger, but it isn't bravery meant to overcome your fears because it has to be done, because the result is worth the risk. No, it's a bravery born out of his wish to prove his worth, to show everyone that he is still someone on his own and not some kind of faint copy of the real hero."

"He sounded a little desperate," Paul agreed with Harry.

Harry sighed and punched the log he was sitting on. "He won't listen to me. Hermione told me about some of Luna's ideas. They're good, really good. Following them would minimize the risk for Michael."

"The girl has quite some imagination in that cute blonde head of hers," Paul teased slightly.

Harry showed the faintest blush but ignored Paul's comment. "But he wants to use another tactic, a more aggressive one; as if a stunner of his would do anything more than annoy a dragon." Harry was thinking about using a stunning bolt himself, but his was a different spell and he would be able to put far more strength behind it. Prepare the spell behind cover, jump out in the open and let fly, targeting not the body but a limb of the quarry. That was a tactic a young hunter would use against a black bear. Used against a dragon it should at least slow it down, make it less dangerous. That cute looking stunning spell of Michael however would barely knock out a medium-sized dog. "And his shield spell doesn't give him much protection either. Hermione offered to teach him a flame-freezing spell but that wouldn't protect him from physical attacks. How. Can. He. Be. So. Stupid?" He punctuated every word with another hit against the log, slowly putting a deep dent into the wood, as his anger flooded his fist with his magic.

"Damn!" His shout shocked Paul for a second, so much frustration, anger and fear was in that single word. Thinking about it, Paul was quite proud of the boy. The task would be as dangerous for him, but his mind was only on saving the life of a boy he only met barely a month ago. "We have to help him, Paul. We can't let him die in this task."

"We won't," Paul tried to assuage him. "I'll speak with the Headmaster about precautions. Perhaps the danger is lesser than we expect it to be."

Harry stared him in the eye, calmly but a little sad. "You don't actually believe that." It was a statement, not a question.

"No, I don't," Paul admitted. He wanted to be honest with Harry. The boy deserved it. "There won't be any noteworthy precautions prepared. I wouldn't be surprised if the headmaster let Michael die in the task without moving a finger."

"It would certainly solve some of his problems."

"It would," Paul nodded, agreeing with that sad truth. "Nobody would care about his real identity anymore." Neither Paul nor Harry believed the "poor orphan" story for one moment. Paul put a hand on Harry's shoulder. "I'll find a way to protect him from his own desperate bravery. I promise. And you concentrate on your own tactic; preferably one not including any serious injury on your part either."

Harry smiled weakly. "Don't worry! I'm not brave enough to face mum after getting injured."

"Clever boy."

.

 _ **Ministry of Magic**_

.

Bartemius Crouch, called "Barty" by his friends, was in a thoughtful mood. Not that this special Barty had many friends, or at least friends who were aware of his real identity. Weeks had gone by since the father had been overthrown by the son, and there still wasn't a hint of a doubt that the taciturn, grumpy man occupying the office "Head of international magical cooperation" was Crouch Sr. His father was at home, bound by shackles and the Imperio spell, with Winky taking care of him. For the loyal house elf not much had changed. The duty was the same as it always had been only it now was the father and not the son who played unwilling house guest. Winky had always like him more than his father.

Barty hadn't decided yet what to do in the long run. He didn't care very much for his father's job but it had its perks. Being the head of an important department gave him quite some influence. More than one official had been asking for some favour, and he was one of the few Ministry workers with free access to international portkeys. Yes, his position would be very useful after his master's return. And there had been a small sign at last that his hope wasn't unrealistic anymore. Someone had taken care of that traitor Lucius Malfoy at the Quidditch Cup debacle, inflaming the sky with the Dark Sign as a warning to all cowards hiding in their little holes. Crouch didn't know whether it had been the master or another loyal servant, but it certainly gave him a warm feeling to think about it.

But for now, the Dark Lord hadn't stepped out of the shadows. Barty still had to wait for orders that gave his life a meaning and a destination. So for now, he had some free time on his hands, time he still intended to use to get revenge on the boy-who-lived. Only now there were two such boys. How the second boy arrived in the middle of the choosing fest had all the makings of a bad joke. Headmaster Dumbledore had done it, Barty was sure of it. Presumably, the Goblet had been over challenged by four powerful wizards messing with its magic. Oh yes, Barty had noticed the other headmasters' influence on the artefact. Somehow two demands to get Harry Potter involved in the tournament had been submitted, and the artefact had messed it up completely. In the end, the result was quite positive for Barty and his Lord. Without this mess-up, they would have never known about the headmaster's heinous deed a decade ago.

Crouch assumed that Albus was responsible for the choosing of the Bain boy. Certainly, with him having intimate knowledge of the artefact, he would have been able to ascertain Bain's status as Hogwarts champion. Crouch on the other hand had simply written Harry Potter on the slip of paper and actually meant it. Determination was an important part of magic. So, the result of his meddling had been the reappearance of the real Potter boy.

Barty fumed thinking about this deception; to have the nerve to show around that pretender, untalented as he was. And the Headmaster didn't even get reprimanded! He had too much political clout for that. Dumbledore was still far too strong, both influence-wise and magically. No, he would leave a direct confrontation to his Lord. But there was still the pretender. He had to die, and the first task alone was dangerous enough on its own... If he survived, somehow, there would still be the second task – the Black Lake. His father, as Barty knew, spoke Mermish, the language of the Mermen. Three months would be more than enough to learn the basics from him and arrange some "accident" for young Michael.

 _With the Dark Lord approaching, I should leave the real boy-who-lived be_ , Barty mused. He grinned maliciously _. Yes, for now I'll leave him alone. And if the Dark Lord hasn't shown his hand by the third task, I'll abduct the boy and keep him hidden until the time comes – a little present, gift-wrapped especially for my Lord. He's sure to like that_.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Headmaster's office**_

.

"I have the utmost confidence in the abilities of our dragon handlers to take care of any dangerous situation that may arise."

Paul Masterson was fuming. Actually, he was seething in his rage. The answer had been exactly as feared and expected, but still he had hoped for a little bit more. "But can't you put in any safeguards? Certainly there must be wizarding spells able to handle such a situation."

"What would you have me do?" Albus Dumbledore was twinkling madly.

He was enjoying the moment, perhaps a bit too much. The whole "two-boys-who-lived" event had been a mess, annoying the hell out of him. He had lost much clout among his political allies and his reputation wasn't as intact anymore as it had been. Add to this how Remus Lupin had enforced the stay of this savage brute and that Squib-girl… it seemed quite reasonable to enjoy to the fullest this payback time.

"Perhaps a ward to dampen the effect of fire," Paul suggested, struggling to stay calm. "Certainly, dragon's breath is the most dangerous part of the task."

"That would interfere with the process of the task, something the Goblet wouldn't allow. It would be seen as cheating and the champions would have to suffer the repercussions."

"What about a ward that only kicks in when the life of a champion is seriously threatened? Springing it would automatically fail the champion, earning him zero points."

Albus pretended to think about it for a while, but shook his head. "No, I don't think that's possible. The risk is too great. And what if a champion doesn't want that precaution? Do they have the right to decline it? What if the ward jumps in and they state that they still had a chance at winning? It's certainly a nice idea but completely unrealistic, I fear." Albus sighed and smiled sadly, all showing the "I'm sorry" grandfather face. "I fear we simply have to trust our handlers and hope for the best."

"I can't accept this," Paul replied with a cold glare. "and I'll find a way to protect the children."

"Mr Masterson," Albus got very serious now, a distinct warning in his voice. "Nobody is allowed to mess with the magic of the Goblet and the wards of Hogwarts. No teacher, student or guest. Don't you forget this."

Paul noticed that he didn't mention headmasters in his little list. He left the office without another word to the headmaster, mumbling only to himself. "Then I'll have to ask Hogwarts itself for help."

.

 _ **Hogwarts – DADA class room**_

.

Mad-eye had the students working in pairs, one of which assembled one Michael Bain and one Harry Potter. The boys were working together quite well. Michael taught Harry the basics of the spells used, and Harry taught him how to fight in return. And Merlin was the boy talented. His reflexes and awareness were incredible. He would really like to watch him in a real duel, perhaps against that Malfoy boy...

Lucius' son had been a surprise. From time to time, his pride got the better of him, but all in all he was far more composed and controlled than expected. Perhaps his mother had taken him under her wings, as Lucius had never been a paragon of self-restraint. The boy was politically savvy as well, it seemed. Mad-eye had seen him walk around with members of three houses. Allies, as a true Slytherin didn't have friends. Interestingly, three of his housemates had started to distance themselves from him. It was even more unusual, because the fathers of Goyle, Crabbe and Bulstrode all belonged to the old death eater cloud. What could have urged their children not to continue the traditional friendship with the heir of house Malfoy? Or had it been the other way round? Had Draco Malfoy decided the trio wasn't to be worthwhile his attention? No, that was unlikely. Muscles could always be useful to have around, even if they lacked in magical talent.

Mad-eye's gaze returned to the Bain/Potter pairing. It still showed that Potter hadn't used his wand for long. The long use of shamanistic magic had influenced how he thought and reacted. His first reaction was to dodge, to react physically to a danger. Only after a long – far too long actually – hesitation did he even think of using his wand. It was quite the contrast to the other students, who had a hard time learning that weaving spells while standing still was a quick way to your grave. No, in a real fight Potter would wipe the floor with them. He would need some time to retaliate, but until then they wouldn't be able to hit him. At least, most of them; he wasn't as certain about that Malfoy boy. He was faster and aimed better than most of his yearmates. _I'll have to watch him more closely in the future_.

But today he had another job on his agenda. At the start of the year, Mad-eye had shown his students the effect of the three Unforgivables. He had even used the spell on a number of them – only volunteers naturally. He was a former Auror not a Death Eater in disguise. Neither Ron Weasley nor Michael Bain had been able to resist the spell. Actually, among the fourth-years only Draco Malfoy had even come close to it. On the other hand, there had been two third-years that surprised him. Hermione Granger had been able to fight it off. Not from the start and not without much effort, but after a while she had gotten free of his influence. Even counting in her being one year older than the other third-years, it had been impressive. Luna Lovegood on the other hand had simply not shown that she even heard his mental command. She continued to hum some silly melody and look around with those dreamy eyes of hers. The girl was frustrating.

Hopefully, it would be different now with Potter. While Mad-eye didn't intend to use the Imperio on him, Albus had tasked him to read the boy's mind. Apparently, Albus was concerned. He had denied any help from Hagrid in learning about the nature of the task, and Albus wanted to know why and how he still had been able to decipher the upcoming task. How much had Remus influenced the boy, tainted his mind against the headmaster? Potter didn't trust Albus, this was obvious. Not that distrusting Albus' intention was a bad or stupid thing in Mad-eye's opinion. However, it was unusual and could easily spoil any plans regarding Potter's future. Mad-eye was perhaps the only one in the know about that Horcrux occupying Potter's forehead. One day, he would have to die for the light, and this could be accomplished far more easily by knowing more about the boy and how his mind worked. Passive Legilimency had already been attempted on the boy, both by Albus and Moody, but his mind was too well-educated. His mind was educated enough even to raise some suspicions about how and why he had learned to defend his mind like this.

No, this had to be done. Not that Mad-eye had any reservations about invading the boy's privacy. It was no different to him than using his special eye to scan the boy for evil artefacts, detecting both the hidden knife as well as that weird bracelet. Supposedly it was only to enhance his healing magic. Mad-eye didn't believe this for one moment. He glanced around a last time. All was well. _Time for the show!_ Hiding his hand motion with his sleeve he whisper-incantated "Legilimency!"

The result was not what he expected it to be.

.

 _ **Hospital Wing – a wee bit later**_

.

"How is he doing?"

Michael nearly jumped out of his chair at the sudden question. He was guarding Harry until Luna returned from Lunch. It had been difficult enough to convince her to leave Harry's side. Parvati and Hermione were accompanying her, and it was Luna's absence that allowed _Ginny_ to initiate this discussion.

For a while, Tom had been thinking about how to progress with his plan to unveil _Michael's_ real identity. More than two weeks since Halloween and he wasn't one step closer to the truth. After much inner debating he had decided that he had a better hope for success if he teamed up with Michael Bain. Certainly the boy wanted to know the truth as well. Only, the girls didn't trust _Ginny_ anymore. Luna especially was wary of her, sometimes showing signs of fear and hate even. It was as if she suspected the truth. The real Ginny had noticed it as well, hoping for Luna to realize her possession every time the girls were together. No, he needed Michael's assistance but had to be careful.

"He's alright. It is exhaustion only, Madam Pomfrey told us. What are you doing here? I mean…"

"I know," _Ginny_ sighed. "I wasn't the best friend to you these weeks. I'm sorry."

Michael shrugged. "It isn't as if you were my girlfriend for real."

"Nonetheless, I should have handled it better. It was…"

"A shock?" Michael guessed.

"Something like that," _Ginny_ nodded. "I had a hard time to decide what to do. Ron and Percy somehow had it easier."

"And you decided now?"

"Yes," Ginny smiled. "You're still my big oaf of a brother."

"That's nice to hear." It was laughable how trusting the boy still was. They watched Harry together for a while, _Ginny_ allowing Michael to relax a little before she addressed the real topic of her visit. "I don't believe this Muggleborn orphan story. I don't believe that you're Michael Bain."

Michael looked up, his expression thoughtful. "Me neither." _So, the boy wasn't as stupid as expected_ , Tom mused. _This makes it easier for me_. "Don't you want to discover who you really are?"

Michael was silent for a long time, before he responded with a low, troubled voice. "Yes, I do. I fear that I won't like the answer, that it will cause me only the more hurt. But still, I want the truth. Perhaps, I still have family out there." His eyes widened as he remembered who he was speaking to. "I mean…"

Ginny put a hand on his shoulder. Tom enjoyed the show very much. It reminded him of his youth, how he had been able to manipulate his housemates. Playing on their emotions like a piano virtuoso. "I understand. I would like to know as well. I'll help you. There must be signs, hints to gather from your conversations with the headmaster. Or other things you noticed. We'll find a way."

"Promise?" He was a young boy right now, asking his big sister for the assurance that everything will be alright.

"Promise," _Ginny_ smiled. _Got you!_

.

The door to the hospital wing opened, but it wasn't the girls who entered, not yet. Paul Masterson had arrived instead, Jenny more or less dragging him forward. So far, nobody knew exactly what had happened. Madam Pomfrey had a suspicion, but had kept mum.

"He's still sleeping," Jenny announced needlessly.

"I can see that," Paul pushed her onto a chair. "Sit down, keep quiet."

 _Ginny_ stepped behind Michael but intently watched the show. This could be interesting. So far, Tom had kept his distance to the Shaman. Now he was eager to observe him weave some magic. And weave he did. Paul pushed two beds aside to make a little room, before he dropped a couple of stones and twigs he kept in a pouch on the ground. To the astonishment of most observers he started to dance a little jig afterwards, humming a melody with his deep voice. Only Jenny wasn't surprised as a twelve feet glowing bear made an appearance, followed only seconds later by a much smaller but equally impressive wolf.

"What…" Hermione's voice got muffled as Luna put her tiny hand over her mouth. The trio of girls had just returned and now watched Paul's little ritual, his doings distracting them from _Ginny's_ presence.

The Wolf was growling now, baring his teeth towards Mad-eye who was occupying a bed further down the room, the ex-Auror asleep and looking quite pale and as if in pain. The dangerous looking spirit animal slowly advanced towards the man, his chest rumbling as he continued to growl. Only the bear stepping in his path stopped him.

"Calm down, friend," Paul assuaged him. "The danger is over; your friend is safe. Tell me what happened."

The Wolf stopped and locked eyes with the Shaman. It was clear that there was some kind of mental exchange. Only Luna noticed that Jenny used the silence to call her own friend. The Raccoon arrived within moments, looking far more subdued and serious than usual. It was a sure sign of her inner turmoil that Jenny was able to simply call forth her spirit animal without any preparation. And Raccoon obviously felt a strong link with her, reacting in time to follow the exchange between Wolf and Bear. Raccoon didn't hesitate to tell Jenny what had happened and the girl's reaction was swift and aggressive. Paul barely had time to grab her arm, knowing full well that he couldn't stop her if she really tried to continue. Luckily, Jenny liked him very much, too much to hurt him.

"You can't attack him."

"He hurt Harry," Jenny hissed.

"He didn't want to. He only tried to read his mind. The Wolf defended Harry's mind and that is what caused the damage."

"Doesn't make it better," Jenny growled. "He had no right."

"No, he had not," Paul agreed calmly. "But this is between Harry and Moody."

"He's my little brother," Jenny hissed. "It's my duty to defend him."

"Defend? Yes," Paul agreed. "Fight his battles? No. You wouldn't like it either the other way 'round."

Jenny's jaws nearly clenched enough to draw blood. "Damn!" She stomped on the ground in her fury, leaving a little crack in the stone. Jenny knew Paul was right. She really wanted to hurt Moody, and Dumbledore as well, as she had no doubt about his part in this. However, it was Harry who had to decide if he wanted to do something about him. Knowing her little brother, she expected him to let it rest. _He was punished already by The Wolf_ , he would say. _Moody isn't bad, only misguided and more than a little paranoid_. Harry was too nice for his own good sometimes. Jenny wasn't that forgiving. And she didn't trust Moody not to attempt it again. "Blasted, fu…" She cursed for a while, switching into Kutenai and using a couple of swearing words even Paul didn't know. He didn't scold her for her language, knowing how much it troubled the girl not to be able to defend her brother all the time.

"But if he ever tries this when I'm around…"

"If he's stupid enough to do that," Paul uttered. "Then he's fair game. The Way of the Kutenai."

"Good." She left moments later, not fully trusting her self-control right now.

.

"Could someone please explain to me what just happened?" Michael asked, sounding as confused as the rest of them looked.

"The Wolf just explained to us what happened that caused Harry and Mr Moody to lose consciousness. Jenny didn't take the news very well."

"And what happened to them?"

"Professor Moody tried to read Harry's mind," Hermione more stated than asked. "And somehow his mind stroke back."

"Actually it was The Wolf who defended him," Paul corrected her assumption. "Harry is very close to his Spirit Animal, far closer than most of my tribe. The Wolf felt the mental attack and instinctively reacted. Harry's exhaustion is the result of him trying to hold back The Wolf from shredding Professor Moody's mind. Without Harry's intervention, the injuries to Professor Moody's mind would have been quite serious. Wolf isn't very forgiving while defending his pack."

"Why would the Professor do such a thing?" Hermione wondered loudly, already guessing the answer.

"This we have to ask him when he wakes up," Paul stated calmly. "But I think we all know the answer already."

They stayed silent for a while after that, until Luna softly asked. "She wanted to fight him. Jenny I mean. That's it what you were speaking about."

"The way of the Kutenai," Paul didn't deny it.

"But she can't," Hermione gasped. "He's a well-feared Auror and Dark Wizard hunter. He's dangerous."

"And she is Harry's big sister. She is the girl who eleven years ago, when she was barely six years old, addressed the Elder Council of our tribe and demanded that we allow him to stay; the same girl who promised to protect him back then. It is her right and duty to defend Harry against all threats. Jenny would challenge Moody should he ever try again to read Harry's mind. And not even her mother could get her to back down from that."

Hermione looked thoughtful for a while. Defending your sibling was certainly something she completely agreed with. She wasn't certain if she would dare to attack a teacher – completely ignoring the fact that she wouldn't have the slightest chance to win against someone like Professor Moody. On the other hand, that wouldn't stop her from fighting Lucius Malfoy or some other Death eater should he ever threaten Luna. Perhaps it was a bit much as a reaction for some mind reading, but she assumed that it was – at least partly – to make a point and because a teacher should know better. _It would be a warning for the headmaster as well_ , Hermione mused. _He was behind this, of that I am sure_.

Winning or losing wasn't really important in such a situation but standing up for your loved ones was.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Edge of Forbidden Forest**_

.

"She's very determined if nothing else." There was a hint of approval in Firenze's voice. While the Centaurs of his tribe mostly thought of humans as talentless power-hungry savages, he could appreciate the sheer will to learn and to better oneself, overcoming your own shortcomings. At least, if those things had their founding in a reason different to those most often seen among humans: the wish for power, money or revenge.

"She is," Paul admitted, his eyes never leaving his pupils. They were training a couple of low-level Awareness spells, with Harry walking around and giving hints while Paul spoke with their visitor. The Centaurs trusted him and allowed him to use the place, but that didn't mean they wouldn't keep an eye on them. The place itself was very useful for his lessons, the plants and the ground itself brimming with life energy.

"She does not have much of a talent. Her inner eye is weak. It has grown stronger since she arrived years ago, but she'll never be a sister of the stars."

"No, she will not." Paul admitted that he was a tad jealous. Firenze, because of his inborn talent, a heritage of his tribe, was able to see things he had needed decades to learn. Naturally he knew that such jealousy was stupid and senseless, as he had other magical talents Firenze could never hope to acquire, but still it didn't change his feelings. In a way, Hermione Granger was like that. She had barely an ounce of talent in the divinational arts but still she didn't give up, didn't stop one second to try her best.

"She's getting better at it," Harry had ordered a break and used the moment to speak with his teacher. "Her Life Awareness Spell is still a bit wobbly, but most of the time she gets it right for a few seconds." He was slightly in awe of his friend, knowing how much harder even the most basic awareness spell was to her.

"Never underestimate a girl with a passion," Paul smiled at Firenze's wisdom.

"I think she's doing this for Luna," Harry mused half to himself.

Paul agreed. In his eyes, the reason for Hermione's stubbornness was quite obvious actually. "Since you cast those first Awareness spells on her, she knew what could be possible for her. It opened a new world to her mind, a world that brought her even closer to her sister."

"They are as close as Jenny and I. Has Jenny told you that Luna asked her about the sibling bond ritual?"

"She did. I'll have to speak about it with the girls after the task. For now, they have too much on their mind."

"But you'll help them?"

"If they know what it means and if Luna's father is alright with it."

"What about Hermione's parents?" Harry didn't believe for one moment that it had to do with them being Muggles.

"Hermione is fifteen already."

"They age of consent," Harry understood.

While a Kutenai had to be 16 to be entitled to vote and 19 to be of age like every other Canadian, there was the age of consent as well. Turning 15, a teenager got the right to decide about his magical education and well-being. Harry would turn 15 in a few months as well, the age they had originally decided to start his wand training – and his lessons to become an Animagus.

"But I have no doubt that we'll have another sibling bond before the year ends. I can't imagine anybody daring enough to step between those girls." Paul looked thoughtful for a moment, gazing at Harry who was watching the girls – especially the blonde one – with that special smile on his face. "You know that, should you ever hurt Luna, not even your mother would be able to protect you from Hermione's wrath, don't you?"

"I would expect no less from her," Harry calmly replied. For a moment he thought about another angry sister. She hadn't been surprised about his decision to wait for Professor Moody to apologize, unsurprised but unimpressed as well. Without Paul keeping her back, she would have challenged the ex Auror to a duel already. Hopefully, it never came to that.

.

"Professor?" Hermione ushered Luna away as the lesson ended. She wanted to speak with Paul on her own.

"Paul," Paul replied with a small smile. "The lesson is over."

Hermione shook her head. "But I want to speak about the lessons, or a student more exactly."

"I don't speak with students about other students; that's unprofessional." There was a hint of reproach in his voice.

Hermione looked uncomfortable but still stood her ground. "Perhaps – a little exception?" She pleaded.

Paul sighed. He had a hunch where this was going. _Children!_ "What do you want to know?"

"Greg…" Paul rolled his eyes. _How unexpected_. "I assumed he would be here as well."

Paul glared at her his best intimidating stare, waiting for her to dash away or stand her ground. She did the latter. "Please, he is my friend…"

"Is he?" Hermione paled at the simple question. "You always tell us what a risk it would be to show your friendship openly, but so far only he is risking something."

"That's unfair," Hermione whined.

"No, it is not. You should think about this friendship and be ready the moment it is time to stand by his side." He obviously knew something she did not.

"I will," there it was back, the girl's determination.

"Good. Difficult friendships are often the most worthwhile; difficult relationships even more so." Hermione pretended not to notice the second part of his statement. Assuming the conversation to be over, she turned around to depart as Paul stopped her. "I don't speak about other students…" The girl stopped but didn't turn around, allowing Paul to speak like he was only talking to himself.

"But you have to know that fifteen is the age of magical self-determination among my folk. A young man with the right talent and turning fifteen before the schoolyear ends, could accompany me back to Canada." Hermione whirled around, her eyes wide and her face pale. "A boy with the right talent and the wish to heal someone," Paul continued, noticing how tears shot into Hermione's eyes, "could start an apprenticeship as a Bear Shaman under my wings."

"And," Hermione asked hoarsely. "is there such a boy at Hogwarts?"

"Maybe. The next months will tell us more." He gazed at the girl. "Such an apprenticeship could protect such a boy – even from his own parents. He would be protected by my tribe and the magical laws of my country."

A small smile crept on her face and she nodded, understanding the impact of this message. Greg would be safe from his father, from being forced to become a Death Eater. "Such a boy should count himself happy to have such a teacher."

"Such a boy would deserve it."

"That he would," Hermione whole-heartedly agreed.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – the day before the first task**_

.

"Too slow."

Vince narrowed his eyes at Millie's teasing words. He tried to be faster, still careful not to hit the girl too strongly. Suddenly, Millie stopped dodging his attacks and countered his next attack, hitting the boy square into the jaw.

"Wow," he squawked from the ground. "What was that for?"

"For going easy on me," Millie growled. "Is it because I'm a girl?" Despite Greg stopping the lessons, Millie and Vince had decided to continue. She still felt an impulse of anger every time she remembered the reason for Greg quitting Karate, but it got weaker now with her relationship with Vince growing stronger every day.

"No, it is…" Vince hesitated and mumbled something.

"What? Speak louder?" Millie demanded.

"It's because it's you," Vince mumbled. "I don't want to hurt you."

Millie blushed a little bit and calmed down. "You can't go easy on me, Vince. I have to learn how to defend myself. You want to protect me, right?" Vince nodded. "Then you have to train me the best way possible. And that's not with half-assed attacks."

"Okay, I'll do better in the future."

"I know you will." Millie grinned evilly. "Else I'll kick your arse until you can't sit anymore."

Vince returned the grin. The fights turned far more vicious after that.

.

Hermione made a gagging noise.

"They're cute," Luna reproached her.

"That's doubtful," Hermione wrinkled her nose. She still didn't like Millie all that much.

In return, Luna strongly kicked Hermione weak leg. "Hey, why are you doing this?"

Luna smiled sweetly: "protecting you."

Hermione growled. "I'll show you."

They continued to fight for a while. Despite Hermione's advantages in size, reach, strength and weight, Luna proved to be too fast and nimble for her. And every time she had a chance to land a hit, Hermione hesitated too long. "We need to find you another training opponent. Perhaps Malfoy..." Hermione cursed, mostly because Luna was right. She had agreed to learn at least the basics of physical self-defence, but her compassion was severely limiting her success so far. She simply didn't want to hurt anyone. Hermione had to get really angry, most often in defence of someone else, to suppress that feeling. Luna had it easier switching into fighter mode. She had a mean streak hidden somewhere that came out to play on those training sessions.

"It's not a bad thing to have difficulties with striking others," Harry's soft voice stopped the training fight for a moment. "I had the same issue with Marian. She's a year-mate of Jenny, certainly athletic enough to become a good fighter, but she unwilling to hurt others. Perhaps you should really train with someone else. Perhaps with Michael as he's more like you in strength and size. You could try to imagine him attacking Luna. At least for the start, I think you'll need a bit of…"

"Imagination?"

"Self-persuasion," Harry decided after some thinking. "At least, until you get a feeling for your own strength, until you know how strong you can hit your opponent in the training."

"You really think that would help me?"

Harry shrugged. "We have to try at least. Michael?" He called his friend, his smile telling Michael that he wouldn't like the news.

Harry watched Hermione and Michael for a while. She really got better with her new partner, more relaxed and less anxious to hurt him. Only then did Harry start some training with Luna. The girls hadn't liked the idea of spending the last day before the task with Karate training, but Paul had them convinced that the boys wouldn't learn anything worthwhile in those last hours and instead needed a bit time to relax and to get distracted. Michael especially needed a few hours without thinking about the dangerous task ahead. He was too clenched up.

Next week they would learn how to disarm a wand-wearer. Tomorrow they would face a dragon. But today was for their peace of mind.

 _Sleep well, mum. See you tomorrow._

.

 _ **Hogwarts – staff room – 20**_ _ **th**_ _ **of November**_

.

The teachers of Hogwarts, a couple of Ministry officials under the leadership of Minister Fudge himself and the judges of the tournament had gathered for a last time in the staff room on the evening before the task, before they had to walk down to the place where the first task would take place. Everybody had something solemn to say, and Albus Dumbledore had been going on and on about the importance of the next day and how much the world would be watching them. He wasn't wrong. Not only had all students gathered, with the small contingencies from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons strengthened by dozens of their schoolmates, but also many family members had arrived, officials and VIPs from other countries announced their participation and not to forget more than two dozens of journalists. They had to enlarge the tribune twice to accommodate everyone.

Paul Masterson was sitting at the rear of the room and calmly watched them, feeling contempt at the offered show of self-importance. Everybody wanted to be at the forefront, to be the one dominating the photos on page one. None of them had the safety of the champions in mind, thought about the friends and families forced to watch their children fight for their lives. Pitting them against fully grown dragon mothers, how stupid could they be? With a sigh of relief he noticed how the door opened and a group of surprise guests appeared, the sight shocking some of the more conservative wizards.

"What are those… house elves doing here?" Madam Umbridge sneered, barely suppressing the word _creatures_ that had been on her lips.

"Now, now, Madam Umbridge," Headmaster Dumbledore didn't look happy but at least tried to be polite. "Matron Mathilda, what a surprise." He glanced towards Paul, correctly guessing the culprit behind this unwelcome show. "Welcome, welcome, please have a seat." His smile was a little forced.

The elderly house elf entered the room and calmly nodded, accepting the invitation with grace. As only a small number of wizards and witches knew, Matron Mathilda had been part of the couple ruling the house elves of Hogwarts for more than a century, doing the job on her own since Tom Riddle tortured her husband William to death for information fifteen years ago. This evening, her son Robert was accompanying her. One day he would succeed her, but not before he found his mate, something that would happen within the next few years as _Hogwarts_ had promised her. Mathilda couldn't expect to meet the promised girl-elf, dreaming of the day she would be allowed to rest and be united with her beloved William again. _Her name will be Lina, and she will – together with Robert – unite the tribes of House and Hill Elves_ , Hogwarts had told her. _It's time for the segregation to come to an end_. Mathilda had believed every word of it.

"What brings you to us today, Matron Mathilda?" Albus' eyes twinkled madly. "I don't want to sound impolite," he continued, ignoring how Madam Umbridge huffed in the background "but we're a little busy today."

"With the first task, I know," Matron Mathilda's voice was like shattered glass. "It's the reason I'm here, actually." The elderly house-elf narrowed her eyes and glared at Dumbledore. There was nothing cute or sweet about her right now. "Tell me more about this task, Albus." The headmaster blinked at the informal address. However, he had to admit that Mathilda was not only older than him by far, but also had been Matron of the Hogwarts house-elves even before young Albus started his schoolyears. "Tell me how you intent to protect my students."

"Your students?" Madam Umbridge interrupted her, the woman's face looking like she was chewing a sour lemon. "This is…"

"Hogwarts," Matron Mathilda stated with a voice like ice crushing your very soul. "and the house elves of Hogwarts have served Hogwarts and its students since Helga Hufflepuff entrusted us with that duty. We cared for them and protected them from any danger, be it from the outside or within."

"You serve the headmaster," Umbridge objected. "You have to obey him." She looked ill that she even had to explain it, her face telling the headmaster something like _apparently you don't have your house-elves under control_.

"You haven't learnt anything new since you left school, little Dolores," Matron Mathilda scolded her, disappointment in her voice. "You really should know better. I'm a servant of _Hogwarts_ , as is the headmaster. He may be the first among the teachers, but he is not my superior. The house-elves of Hogwarts obey his wishes – as long as they don't go against our first maxim: protect the students at all costs. My late husband gave his life in the defence of Hogwarts; don't expect me to be any mellower."

"You speak like Hogwarts is a living, sentient being," Umbridge scoffed.

The look she got from Matron Mathilda was pitying if anything. "You really have no idea, do you?"

.

It had been quite difficult to calm down the huffing and puffing Madam Umbridge. After finishing that herculean task, Albus started to explain Matron Mathilda about the first task, the dragons and the eggs, the golden and the genuine ones. He spoke about the preparations and how he trusted the dragon handlers to take care of anything. It would be an understatement to say that Mathilda wasn't impressed, and she had no qualms about speaking her mind.

"That's a stupid idea, even for you, Albus." Some of the listeners scoffed but that did nothing to stop Mathilda. "No mother would hatch such a ridiculous idea. I'm only surprised that the dragon handlers are complying with your wishes. Dragons are sentient, feeling beings. This task will endanger them and even worse their eggs." Seeing some of them shrug off this warning enraged Paul even more. Mathilda turned around and addressed him. "Your friend arrived?"

Paul nodded. "He accompanied Harry's parents."

"Friend?" Albus wondered loudly, hoping to learn more about Harry's home and the people the boy surrounded himself with.

"He's a healer, especially talented at healing magical creatures – and dragons."

"One problem taken care of," Mathilda was content. "Albus, I expect you to do something for the protection for the eggs." She lifted a wrinkled hand to stop his complaint. "I know, I know, the Goblet and the need not to intervene. Nonetheless, take care of it. If a single egg is destroyed in this task, I'll consider you personally responsible."

"I'm sure we'll find a way," Albus tried to smile, his mind already racing how to accomplish this unexpected complication. Matron Mathilda wasn't someone he wished to annoy. The last time, his lemon drops had tasted like sour herring for three weeks, irrespective of how often he swapped them for new ones.

"And I'll take care of the champions. No student will die on my watch." She allowed Robert to help her get up and walk towards the door. "I expect better from you for the second task. We don't want a repetition in February of this little talk we just had, do we?"

 _No, we certainly don't,_ Albus shuddered.

.

"See you later," Mathilda waited for her son's departure before she opened the door. Only the Matron and Patron of the Hogwarts' house elves were allowed to enter this room. It was one of the oldest in the whole castle and one of the cosiest as well. It was one of Hogwarts' biggest secrets to add, its existence only known to the truest of Hufflepuffs.

There was only a single other being present, and she seemed to expect Mathilda already. "Hello, Granny. I hope I don't disturb you," Mathilda greeted her.

"No, no, I was expecting you." Granny patted on the seat at her side and poured her some tea. "I felt your unrest. What do you have on your mind, sweetie?"

Mathilda sighed. Only Granny could understand her trouble. "A few of my children are in danger. We need the help of Hogwarts to protect them."

.

 _ **A/N**_

 _According to wiki, the age of becoming "of age" has been 19 until 2001 in Canada._

 _Yes, I reused my beloved Matron Mathilda again. It's only a guest appearance. She won't play an important part in this story. And the mentioning of Lina is from my trilogy as well._

 _You'll see more of "Granny" and "Hogwarts" next time._


	14. Chapter 14 The First Task

**The First Task**

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Gathering Rooms**_

.

It was the day of the first task. They had been waiting for this day, anxious and more than a little afraid of the dangers ahead. A couple of rooms had been prepared for the four champions and their families to give them an opportunity for a last moment meeting far away from the public's eye. Naturally, some of the journalists had tried to invade that privacy, infamous Rita Skeeter at the forefront of those vile scavengers. A couple of biting words and hole-drilling glares from Professor Snape had been enough to send them scurrying back into the shadows. For once, even Michael liked the dour potion master.

Viktor's father and grandfather were there, big hulking men with bushy beards covering their faces, their eyes twinkling in amusement as they watched Viktor being treated like a child by his mother. "Have you eaten enough? Do you need another jumper? You forgot the blue one when you left." Viktor rolled his eyes but endured it. The love and concern of his mother was holy to him, as was the hungry hug of his youngest sister, clinging to him like she feared to lose him forever. Even someone as annoying as Viktor appeared to possess a human side.

The Delacours behaved in a much more sedated and well-behaved manner. Apolline Delacour greeted her daughter by hugging her – it was a very lose hug, not one of those hugs Hermione had inherited from her mother – and kissing her cheeks, following up with a long scrutinizing look that didn't miss the slightest fault in Fleur's bearing and appearance. Her husband was even more distanced and Harry felt pity with the French girl. Being the daughter of an important aristocrat and politician had to be difficult. As the Delacours belonged to the Veela royalty, it certainly would be twice as arduous. At least Fleur's sister behaved like a real sister, and a young one to add. She screeched, cried, hugged her sister – all of it under the disapproving looks of her parents but to Fleur's obvious joy. "Hello, Gabby-sweetie, I missed you so much." _Apparently, sibling bonds were the same in every country_ , Harry happily mused.

He turned around, nodding towards the Weasleys that surrounded Michael. Harry was thankful for them morally supporting his friend, emotionally battered as he was. Arthur, Percy – no surprise there – and that had to be Bill, the oldest son. The latter kept sneaking glances towards – Harry followed his eyes: Fleur Delacour. Harry grinned. _So, the beautiful Veela caught his eyes. Understandable_. Charlie had been there for a few minutes before he had to return to his dragons. Ginny was at Michael's side as well. He felt a bit stricken about that. On one hand, he was thankful for Ginny trying to support Michael after weeks of keeping her distance. On the other hand, he knew that Luna mistrusted the girl. _Keep your friends close and your enemies closer_ , he remembered the old saying. _I'll be watching you, girl_. He also noted the absence of the rest of the clan, especially Michael's – former? – brothers, who only would have to walk a short distance to visit him. Neither the Twins nor Ron had been willing to accept the changes and still treated the boy like a leper.

 _And his mother is missing as well_. Molly Weasley's rejection of Michael's true nature had been a harsh blow to the emotional welfare of the boy. Therefore Harry hadn't told him about the letters he got from the Weasley Matriarch – telling him of her supposed friendship with his mother and how close they had been. A complete lie, as he knew from Remus. Lily Evans had never been in good graces with Molly Weasley née Prewitt. They had barely tolerated each other, Molly never missing a chance to criticize Lily and her motherly deficiencies. How a mother, by birth or adoption, could reject one of her children so easily was inconceivable for him. His own mother had been enraged. Luckily for Molly, she had been too far away for Michiko to rip her "a new one".

"Hello, Michael, I wish you luck." So, Michael's new "mother" had arrived as well. Despite her restrictive status as his teacher, Madam Longbottom had easily slipped into that role. She had tried to be a good godmother to Harry as well, but noticed quickly that he was well-cared for with Jenny and Paul, while Michael was in dire need of an adult carer. It certainly helped that he trusted her and shared her love for plants and anything alive. _Wouldn't it be nice for Michael to live with Madam Longbottom instead of the Weasleys? It will certainly be quite awkward for him next break._

Harry leaned back in his seat, enjoying the warmth of his mother's arm around his shoulders. They were here for him, supportive and loving without being overwhelming. They even kept the embarrassment in check – apart from Marian. Jenny's friend hadn't missed the chance to kiss him on the cheek, ruffle his hair and to do everything to treat him like a cute, younger cousin. And she loved every second of it. _Girls!_ Healer Marjenka was there was well, trying to convince him that a last medical check was in order. As if Paul would allow him to enter the task in anything but perfect health.

"Paul told me about his new acolyte," Marjenka mentioned. "He expects great things from this…"

"Gregory?"

"Yes, that's the name."

"It is not a done deal," Harry replied. "As far as I know his parents, especially his father, aren't very supportive of that kind of career."

"That's an understatement," Hermione grumbled. "He wishes for him to become a thug and murderer, not to heal and help people."

"So you know him?" Marjenka lifted a single eyebrow, instantly guessing something more than what was said from the intonation in the girl's voice.

"He's a… a good friend." Hermione blushed cutely.

She threw Harry a thankful look as he came to her rescue and changed the topic. "Where is Martin? I expected him to accompany you."

"He's down with the dragons. Examining them, asserting that they are ready for the task as well." Michiko looked thoughtful for a moment. "Apparently he got a message from a very old friend about this being a necessity."

"Martin knows someone around here?" Harry wondered.

"Martin knows someone everywhere around the world." Michiko responded with a smile. Unlike her children and Remus, she knew who Martin really was – and how old.

"Are you alright, son?" Remus asked more seriously. He looked quite unlike his real self today, with those black hairs and sun-burned skin. Harry remembered one of the woodcutters near his village looking like this. _So, he got some hair from that guy for his Polyjuice_.

Harry felt his mother tense up. She was really trying not to be the overprotective mother. "I'm alright. I have a plan and thanks to the girls at least a dozen backup plans. I'm prepared." Hermione glared. In her eyes, you can never be too prepared.

"Alright," Remus had difficulties to accept sending his son into that arena, but he tried as well. He threw Luna and Hermione a thankful look. He didn't have to glance towards Jenny to know that she was ready to rescue her baby brother in time of need. There had been some long letters between her and Michiko about Adept techniques – both for Harry and Jenny. And when push came to shove, there was always Floe. The Shephard dog had something everybody else missed: the natural ability to Dreamwalk. In case of need he would be the first and fastest to rush to Harry's side, bypassing any ward and barrier that had been erected.

Remus breathed deeply. He hated this mess, but for now they had done everything in their power to assure that Harry – and Michael – made it through alive. Now they had to wait and watch. _And Merlin help Albus if anything happened to the boys_.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Dragon Pen near the Arena**_

.

"You are a disgrace to your profession. You should be the keepers of these dragons. You should protect them from any danger, be it some other creature, famine or disease, or a megalomaniac trying to use them for some mad scheme or the stupidity of the Ministry. That should have been your job. And you failed miserably. "

That had been Martin's core statement after he examined the dragons quite thoroughly, and the dragon-handlers shared a likeness right now: ears ringing from the scolding and cheeks flaming red in shame. This foreign man had waltzed into their camp, unstoppable even before he showed them the certificate that proved him to be a _Healer of Paracritters rank four_ , issued by the _Committee of Healers of North and Central America, subcommittee for magical creatures_. Charlie hadn't even known there was a "rank 4", as rank 3 already included magical surgery on category XXXX-creatures like dragons, manticores and hippogryphs. And he had been right. They never should have allowed this to happen. Dragons weren't idle minded beasts; they were proud, exalted beings with their own minds and feelings. They were rare enough these days not to endanger them willingly and unnecessarily, without even mentioning the potential risk for their eggs.

They had been relieved to watch Professor Flitwick, Vektor and Babbling working together to prepare the nest in the arena, protecting the content from anything below the equivalent of a magical bomb. Even a direct hit of dragon breath or tail wouldn't be able to breach that rune-cluster.

They had been stunned and shocked, that neither Headmaster Dumbledore nor one of the other judges and organizers had initiated this protection, when the Head Matriarch of the Hogwarts House Elves had demanded it with no uncertain words.

Charlie looked up and glanced around the arena. Hundreds of visitors had already gathered and more arrived every minute. Some of them visited the souvenir shops before taking a seat, others tried to sneak a peek at those _dangerous dragons_ , shuddering at the sight of the mighty claws and jaws. Officials and journalists from all over Europe and a couple from America and Asia had shown up. All students from Hogwarts in addition to the delegations from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang, were ready to cheer for their champions. Teachers, friends and families and every wizard able to grab a seat were all anxious to witness this battle of gladiators. Additionally, thousands of wizards and witches around Britain listened intently to WWN, the magical radio. At last, dozens of photographers tried to find the perfect place to catch the most dramatic pictures.

The judges were set to arrive in a few minutes. _They probably are with the champions now_ , Charlie assumed. They still had to pair the dragons with the candidates. _Hopefully, Michael will get an easy one_. He knew exactly how dangerous even the weakest one could prove to be in the arena, but there was still quite a difference between the Chinese Fireball and the Hungarian Horntail. At least, all four dragon mothers were a bit calmer now, thanks to this strange man. Somehow, Martin had been able to "tell" them that the eggs were in no real danger, noticeably reducing their aggression born out of motherly protectiveness.

For a short moment, Charlie felt himself relax and a smile creep onto his lips. Another group had arrived and was taking their seats on one of the higher ranks, those meant for the less important guests or those with the smaller purses. The dozen house-elves certainly caught some attention from the other guests. A pair of Centaurs and a small delegation from Gringotts were there as well. The arrival of the house-elves, some of them wearing some kind of uniform, with broad knives sticking behind their broad belts, produced the bigger effect among the human guests. Charlie greeted their leader with a small bow, feeling thankful for her concern about the dragons. There was another female house-elf at her side, small even for her kind, wrinkled and dragging behind an old canvas pouch that seemed too heavy for her to carry. She looked old enough to make Matron Mathilda appear like an elfling. _I had no idea there could be house-elves this old_ , Charlie wondered.

"Please take your seats, the task will begin in a few minutes," the speaker announced.

" _Best of luck, Michael."_

.

 _I hope you'll like my present_ , Barty Crouch thought at the same time. He followed the other judges to their seats. Only Ludo Bagman would stay with the champions until the task began. _We wouldn't want the task to be too boring for you, would we,_ he tonelessly cackled. It had been easy enough to influence the pairings. While he wasn't interested in the dragons chosen for Delacour and Krum, he assured that the easiest choice would go to the real Harry Potter and the most difficult one for Michael Bain. Potter had to survive and Bain to die, or so he hoped. Yes, there were precautions to _hopefully_ prevent any mortal injuries, now even more than before as that disgusting creature had dared to raise her voice. But none of them would protect a champion from a direct attack. Barty hadn't dared to charm the dragon itself in case somebody noticed it, but as far as he knew a Horntail was aggressive and deadly enough on its own.

 _Poor boy_ , he mock-grieved. _His fate is so sad. He would die far too young_. Barty rubbed his hands. _Let the show begin_.

.

 _ **Tent of the Champions**_

.

Michael was deathly pale and Harry stayed by his side in case his friend fainted. Gently he grabbed him by the elbow and led him to a seat. Without resistance Michael obeyed and sat down, the figurine of the Hungarian Horntail still in his hand.

"That's not as bad as it seems," Ludo Bagman babbled far too happily. "Certainly, you'll be able to… urgh." The judge with the penchant for questionable wagers felt himself pushed away.

"Leave him alone."

"But…"

"Shut your gob or I'll do it for you." There was no doubt that Harry would attack him physically if he didn't back down. Ludo had many talents, but bravery didn't belong to them. This boy was a head smaller than him but somehow scared him nonetheless.

Without hesitation, Harry returned to Michael's side and grabbed him by the shoulders. "You can do this, Michael. This pairing doesn't change anything." Michael stared him in the eye, still shocked that he got the most dangerous one by far. "Listen, Michael. Follow Luna's strategy. Avoid his attacks, distract him, get the egg and survive. No heroics."

"The little boy is frightened," Krum mocked.

For a moment, Harry felt a rush of anger hitting him, followed by a wave of pain, emitting from his scar. He breathed deeply, and blocked out Krum's further comments. At least Fleur had stayed silent, watching the exchange with deep interest. Hermione didn't like the French Champion very much, but so far, she had been surprisingly restrained towards Harry and Michael. _Keeping silent and observe_ was a behaviour he certainly could live with. Viktor however had start taunting them whenever possible, for reasons that remained unclear so far.

"Leave it to the brainless idiots to go head on with the dragons," Harry continued, glancing to Krum for a moment. Viktor fumed, but like Harry he knew that this wasn't the time for a fight. "You never wanted to partake in this, and without Dumbledore you wouldn't have." Fleur's eyes widened. There was not a hint of doubt in Harry's voice and according to this Bain-boy's expression he believed it as well. "He'll happily dance a jig on your grave if you die today and you know it. Please, Michael, don't be stupid. Listen to Luna."

Fleur looked thoughtful, her own upcoming task forgotten for now. There had been rumours but this was the first time she heard about the matter first-hand so to say. She would have much to think about, later, after the task. But she wouldn't forget what had been said. The friendship forged between these two boys was certainly both unusual and interesting.

.

"Over here, over here!"

The field medics accompanying the dragon handler team followed Madam Pomfrey's command and carried the young witch into her tent, Fleur's hands still clasped around the golden egg, her robe partially burned to ashes and her left leg a smouldering glob of raw flesh.

Her tactic had been successful – more or less. Having drawn the Chinese Fireball, she had been the first to enter the arena. Her sleeping spell had hit the dragon squarely in the face, the witch hiding between the rocks until her opponent was a snoring heap on the solid ground. Following up with another sleeping spell for good measure, she had only left her hiding place when it looked danger-free. Regretfully, her assessment had been wrong, or at least it hadn't been completely correct. She actually reached the nest and got her egg as the dragon stirred. Just then she woke up, shaking off the effect of Fleur's spell and looking infuriated. Before Fleur or the dragon handlers had a chance to react, the dragon breathed fire at the girl. With her standing by the nest, the rune-array protected her for the most part. Luckily, the task was officially over when she reached the eggs so this protection wasn't against the rules. However, one of her leg had been outside the array, the flames burning away robe and skin alike, the pain luckily making her lose consciousness within seconds. The handlers had been able to subdue the dragon, but her leg didn't look good.

"How is she? How is my daughter?"

For the first time since she arrived at Hogwarts, Apolline Delacour allowed her emotions to show. Even her aristocratic bearing had its limits. Gabrielle was there as well, nearly mad with concern while her father kept her away from the healers, not cold-hearted enough to scold his younger daughter here and then. This looked bad.

Apart from the Delacours the tent was filled with Madam Pomfrey, Madam Longbottom who was her assistant for the day, Paul Masterson and his future apprentice – one Gregory Goyle. His father hadn't been happy about his son's "detention", but his mother had convinced Goyle Sr. that "it could only be a good thing for the boy to see a bit of blood and broken bones from up close, hardening him up a little." Goyle Sr. certainly liked that idea.

"She has magical burns of the fourth degree all over her leg," Madam Pomfrey told them as Apolline and Gabrielle sobbed. "I hope we'll be able to rescue it, but there will be serious scaring for the rest of her live." Fleur's father narrowed his eyes. This was even worse than expected. Perfect appearance and a flawless body were important, not only around his social circle but even more among Veela aristocracy. Burn scars, especially visible ones, would gravely diminish Fleur's worth as a future bride. Especially for those Veelas he had in mind as potential future in-laws. As Apolline looked up from her beloved daughter, looking for moral support, she only found disappointment and disgust in her husband's eyes. For a moment she was confused. Then realization hit her like a brick. She stumbled back, shocked by her husband's reaction. _I shouldn't be surprised. He had always been very callous about his daughters_. She squared her shoulders, feeling an intense wave of hate rushing through her veins.

"Gabby," she called her daughter to her side. "Stay with Fleur." Gabrielle nodded meekly.

Apolline however approached her husband and whisper-shouted. "Leave!"

"Wh.. what?" He looked confused, obviously not understanding why his wife was angry with him.

 _To him, his thoughts are perfectly acceptable_ , she realized. This didn't diminish her rage one bit.

"Leave, now. Leave the tent, leave Hogwarts, and return to France. I don't want to see you again around here. In fact I don't want to see you in the foreseeable future."

"You don't understand…"

"Oh, I understand all too well. Now go, you disgust me." She had to clench her fists until her fingernails drew blood to avoid forming fireballs in them. At least, he was clever enough to obey.

Paul had calmly watched the exchange, and only stepped forward after Mr Delacour had left the tent with only a puny rest of dignity. "Madam Delacour, it would be possible to do something for your daughter's leg, but we have to do it now and I'll need your help."

Madam Delacour stared him in the eye, finding honesty and the wish to help her daughter. _Why couldn't my husband be more like this?_ She glanced aside and got an approving nod from Madam Pomfrey. "Anything to help her!" She responded with conviction.

"Good," Paul smiled and put a hand on her arm. "then we should be able to cure her. She'll be able to dance again at the Yule ball. You have my word." He hastened to the tent's flap and opened it. "Firenze? We have to leave immediately. We'll need your help and that of your friend."

.

The next champion got announced. With Viktor Krum drawing all eyes towards the arena, nobody noticed the small cavalcade leaving the healer tent towards the Forbidden Forest. Firenze and his friend actually allowed Paul to connect a stretcher to their behind and carried a comatose Fleur Delacour towards the small meadow he used for his lessons. The concentrated life energy of the place would make healing her easier. Paul had offered Apolline his arm for support, while Gaby – bravely trying to stop her tears – nearly crushed Greg's arm as she clung to him.

 _They had a girl to heal._

.

 _ **Harry's Turn**_

Viktor had finished his task with ease. He was an arse but Harry had to admit that the Durmstrang Champion knew his spells and had the magical might to back up his annoying words. The Conjunctivitus, cast at the right moment and hitting dead-on, had blinded the dragon. Afterwards, Viktor had lured her away from her nest, dodging her as his steps got drowned out by some loud music spell, and fetched his egg. He was very fast too and would certainly get a very high score, not that Harry cared. The dragon had been raging, even against her handlers, until Martin stepped in and healed her eyes. Harry's friend looked quite angry, and he expected Martin to have some unfriendly words with Viktor Krum and the Headmaster of Durmstrang. Perhaps Viktor would be more careful and compassionate in the future. Martin could be very convincing, especially when unhappy.

Harry glanced around. Michael was looking better, less pale. He had his eyes closed. The thought had crossed Harry's mind to exchange the dragon statuettes, to allow Michael to fight the weaker and more harmless Common Welsh Harry had the luck to draw. But that would have been an insult to Michael, almost like telling him _You're too weak to battle the Horntail_. He actually was, in Harry's opinion. Even he would hesitate to go against that huge ill-tempered monster-dragon. But destroying the last ounce of self-respect in Michael's battered mind was certainly the wrong way to help him.

"See you later with the girls, Michael. We'll cheer for you."

Michael opened his eyes and grinned weakly. "See you. And best of luck!"

"To you as well," Harry nodded and left the tent. _Here we go_.

.

The Common Welsh Green was a smaller type of dragon with – you guessed it – grass green scales. He was the smallest and tamest of the four dragons, but not harmless in any way. However, contrary to some of her kind the Common Welsh wouldn't attack humans on the hunt, as they lived mostly from sheep and other herbivores. Harry was slightly bothered that this dragon was the one he got to defeat, not that he would utter such an opinion around the girls. Was it pure coincidence? Or had someone messed with the pairing? Had someone wanted to increase the chance of Harry surviving the task all the while planning for a more sinister future for Michael?

Harry looked up and got the sign from Ludo Bagman to begin the task. The crowd cheered. He didn't search for the eyes of the girls, knowing exactly what he would find there. It would only distract him to know how disturbed they were despite trying their best to look unconcerned. Instead he concentrated on the dragon ahead. She was "only" around twenty-five feet long, thirty at most. Her breath, according to Hermione and Padma, had around the same range. The fire would take the shape of a stream line, not a cloud or cone, making it easier if not easy to dodge. He had to be careful, but it was doable.

 _I can't be reckless_. Harry shuddered at the thought what his own mother would do to him otherwise. She didn't need a fire breath to be far more terrifying than the dragon could ever hope to be. Glancing around the big rock, he recoiled as the dragon exhaled a bit of fire, nearly playfully and certainly not at full strength. More cheering, _blasted pack_. There were certainly quite a number of spectators hoping for his miserable end. _A grilled Canadian you won't get, not today_. Trying to remember one of the spells he had learned from Luna and getting the casting right on the second try, he created a cloud of smoke to the left of the dragon. _Grilled lamb, yummy_. The dragon glanced there for a moment, but soon concentrated back on the rock where Harry was hiding. _Not so easily distracted it seems_. Some snickers from the crowd, mostly the Durmstrang students, could be heard but Harry ignored them. Time for a bit of Shamanism.

Summoning a trio of watchers - excluding Jerry as he wasn't certain the effect the dragon fire would have on him - he sent them in to create some mayhem. For a moment he had thought about recreating those quartet of vultures from the Jungle Book, laughing, cackling and telling bad jokes, but that was too complex and he didn't really need it, he only wanted something to distract the dragon and drive him mad a little, so he concentrated on a trio of huge seagulls. The birds had barely come into existence and opened their beaks for a little screeching when the dragon started to chase them around as far as his chain allowed it. In the meantime, Harry concentrated on a stunning bolt, pouring far more energy into this spell than he usually did. This one spell had to count. Hoping for the best, he jumping into the open and let fly, breathing deeply as he noticed that the dragon's attention was still on the birds. The bolt hit her on the left foreclaw, not only reducing her ability to hit Harry physically but also seriously slowing her down.

She roared in pain and anger, sprouting a long stream of flame towards him. Luckily, Harry wasn't there anymore. Running around like mad, dodging a couple more of her ill-targeted attacks, he used his magic to boost his chances to survive this daunting adventure. First, he increased his speed and agility, bettering the reaction time of his nerves and senses. Then he pulled a shroud of magic around his body. He really would like to avoid a grazing hit if his luck ran out. Only then did he begin to form another stunning bolt. He performed this entirely on the run, increasing the difficulty threefold at least, his training with Paul and Martin helping immensely. _They expected something like this to happen even back then_ , he now realized. Mentally commanding his seagulls to use another distracting tactic, he waited for them to begin a barrage of small stones dive bombs onto the dragon. This barely counted as an attack, the pebbles simply bouncing off from the thick scales. But apparently it was annoying enough and the dragon turned its head around, its flames hitting one of the seagulls. A real one would be a roast chicken now but the watcher only dissolved into a cloud of magic.

Later, Harry would scold himself for falling for this trick. He should have known better. _Never underestimate the intelligence of an opponent_. However, in this moment, he actually saw a chance and wanted to exploit it. Increasing his speed another notch, he sprinted towards the nest. Luckily, his senses warned him in the nick of time. He changed direction and avoided the sweeping tail, which hit the nest instead. Again, the eggs got saved by the rune-array, while Harry cursed himself for falling for this ambush. He hadn't been able to completely dodge the attack, but his magical shield had absorbed most of the hit. Now, he was jumping and rolling around, the dragon luckily still a bit slowed down by the stunning bolt. _Was there mirth in her eyes?_ Harry wondered.

 _The eyes, that's it_. Harry dodged the next attack and waited for the right moment. Her dragon breath was certainly nearly ready to be used again. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that. The stunned claw was almost well again it seemed. He saw her test it. _She'll use the claws for a surprise attack_ , he mused. Really, only a few seconds later the dragon bit in his direction only to follow up with a vicious sweep of her formerly stunned claw. Harry had expected the move and jumped in the air, far higher than any human should be able to. _Ki-Fist!_ Hopefully, Martin was proud about the result of their dire training, if not about what Harry was using it for. _I have to end this and soon_. Over a distance of four, five yards, the magic of his ranged fist attack hit the dragon into the right eye, not enough to permanently injure it but it certainly hurt like hell. The dragon opened her mouth in reflex for a bit of screaming, only to get hit by the stunning bolt Harry had been keeping in reserve. Hitting her vulnerable gums while circumventing her magic-resistant scales was enough to knock her out for a few seconds. The dragon-mother came crushing down and moaned in pain.

With no idea of how long she would need to recover from that hit, Harry ignored the tumultuous applause from the crowd, rushed to the nest and got his egg. Without waiting for even a second, he continued his charge, barely allowing the judges to declare his success before he left the arena. He had no wish to wait for the dragon to get around and repay him for the pain, no, not in the slightest.

Only when he was really safe and secure, did he look up and searched for the faces of his friends and family. He had not only won but done so without a scratch. Now, he wished Michael would be able to accomplish the same.

.

 _ **Michael's turn**_

It was worse for Michael right from the start and it went downhill from there in giant leaps – or drops.

Michael tried to use Luna's tactic in the beginning, he really did. He used spells to distract the dragon, to send her chasing around after phantasms and to hide his own presence. But he never got it right. Partially, it was nervousness. Michael needed several attempts for every spell, and even with them being stronger and far more accurate than they had been a month ago, they still weren't precise enough to deceive a fully-grown dragon, nevertheless a Hungarian Horntail.

However, the worst wasn't the fact his spells failed him. Far worse was that Michael was losing his nerves. With every spell not getting the result he had hoped for, Michael got more depressed, closer to admitting defeat to himself. With every minute the battle lasted without any noticeable progress, the crowd got more impatient. They started to complain, to ridicule Michael and call him a coward, a liar and a worthless Squib. Untrue as they were, the cusses got to him and undermined his self-confidence even more, the paltry remains of it that remained with his growing self-doubts scratching at his confidence. He so wanted to prove them wrong. He wanted to be Parvati's hero, to be worthy of Harry's friendship and make Madam Longbottom proud of him. Michael had no idea that he had achieved those goals simply by being him already. Instead, he felt utterly worthless.

"He's losing it," Harry cursed, clenching to Floe's neck with only his strong grip keeping back the yowling dog from running to the rescue.

 _I can't live like this_ , Michael sobbed, hastily wiping away the tears blinding him. _I'll prove them wrong_.

So, he got more and more reckless, immensely frightening his friends and family, as at least some of the Weasleys still saw him as one of their own. He didn't see how Percy sucker punched Ron after one brainless statement too many, didn't hear Parvati scream at Lavender until her former friend cowered under her seat or how Madam Sprout had to keep Alice back from jumping into the arena to save her favourite student. Nothing of that was on his mental radar. There was only space for the dragon, the egg and the endless laughter of the audience.

"Lancea!" The piercing spell hit the dragon but didn't even pierce the outer layer of its thick skin. Dancing around to his best abilities, he got more and more reckless, the desperation in his chest getting stronger with every spell failing to do more to the dragon than annoy him.

 _There!_ One of his piercing spells hit the thinner scales right beside the eyes. For the first time the dragon felt pain and Michael's heart soared. It lasted only for a second. For one precious second, Michael felt a sliver of hope. It all ended in the next with the might of a train hitting him. Michael heard screams, one of them being his own and he imagined to hear Parvati's voice as well. The dragon's mighty claw hit him and whirled him around like a child's toy. His side burnt were the claws had ripped his robe and slashed his skin, spilling blood and breaking ribs. A single hit ended the fight and every chance of him successfully finishing the task – but it didn't end the dragon's attack.

"NOOO!"

More screams, chaos and mayhem on the ranks, judges falling over each other to end the task and send in the dragon handlers. Nobody noticed Barty Crouch's evil, satisfied, smile. The pretender would die in the most bloody and public way. Nobody else than Ginny at least, who watched him with narrowed eyes. _This deserved more investigation_. While the real Ginny felt like screaming at the sight of her brother's suffering, Tom felt only slight annoyance that he had to change his plans again. Without the boy's help it would be more difficult to get to the bottom of the riddle around Michael Bain's real identity.

Michael saw and heard none of that. He only felt pain. He was on the ground, flat on his stomach, but still trying to stand up. Far away, Ludo Bagman gave the signal that ended the task. Charlie Weasley pushed the door open to get into the arena, a handful of dragon handlers close behind. On his elbows and knees now, his breath heavy and his muscles trembling from the attempt to stand up, Michael never saw the tail coming. A two feet spike that gave the dragon its name impaled his back, all through the chest until the tip broke through the skin of his breast. Hermione had to grab Parvati as the girl fainted. Luckily for him, Michael lost his consciousness at that moment, the pain simply being far too potent. The dragon lifted its tail, a bit irritated because of the soft glow that started to emit from the boy who was hanging from the tail like a butterfly impaled on a needle. Noticing the dragon handlers and fearing for its prey, the dragon turned around, keeping the tail and the boy out of their reach, opening its giant mouth to take a hearty bite, only to feel its mighty jaws hit some kind of barrier. The dragon handlers came to a stop as well, unsure how to react to the weird scene ahead. Several times further the dragon attempted to bite poor Michael like a boy scout would try to get bites from a sausage on a stick at a scout campfire. Every time the dragon failed.

"Enough of this, Catriona."

Four words only, but they were enough to gain the complete and utter silence of the arena and the stands surrounding it. Some… being… appeared in the arena not far from the dragon and its prey. It looked like a ghost or better like a mix of several ghosts. The voice was a mix as well, sounding like dozens of people were speaking at the same time. It was a caring mother, a judging father, a concerned sister and a protective brother all at the same time.

"You had to protect your children, Catriona. I understand this. It wasn't right to endanger them, to use them in this mockery of a true tournament. But you have won. Your children are safe. Now allow me to do the same for my child."

There weren't many in the audience who guessed correctly the identity of this being. Albus was one of those few and he didn't like it one bit. As Harry had guessed, he hadn't exactly planned for the boy to die today, but he wouldn't have grieved his death for long either. Now, the boy seemed to be under this being's protection and this wasn't something he had expected to happen. _Hogwarts_ , the Castle Spirit as Harry called her unbeknownst to Albus, hadn't shown herself in generations of students visiting the school.

"Put him down, Catriona, and take care of your children."

The dragon seemed to think about it for a moment, before she put Michael down, surprisingly gently and even allowing the dragons handlers to pull him of the spike. Willingly she followed them as they grabbed the eggs and left the arena.

"Not this one," Charlie stopped one of his comrades from picking up the golden egg. "This one caused enough pain today." He was still a little stunned about this magical being knowing the dragon's name. Not many did.

"Take him to the Hospital Wing," Madam Pomfrey begged some of the helpers waiting for orders. A single glance had been enough for the experienced healer to know that even with Hogwarts' intervention it could possibly be too late for any help. Michael only had a chance because Paul cast a Stasis spell on the boy. Later, Madam Pomfrey would assess that Paul's spell had slowed down Michael's body functions by the factor 17, giving him an hour where he would have succumbed to his wounds within minutes.

"We'll do what we can," Paul tried to sound hopeful. He had returned right before Harry had left the arena, only to watch Michael's hopeless fight. The boy didn't deserve this.

Neither Madam Pomfrey nor Paul Masterson noticed the duo of elderly house-elves leaving the ranks as well, shouldering that old satchel and following them. Even they hadn't expected how fast and ugly the fight would turn, but they were prepared. "None of my students will die," Matron Mathilde muttered. She had lost one student thirty years ago. Never again!

.

"Lady Hogwarts," Albus Dumbledore strutted forward, or at least he would have if his physical shape would have allowed it. His eyes twinkling madly, an _honest smile_ on his lips, he fully intended to capitalise on her appearance, exploit her arrival and try to gain a little political goodwill and reputation out of it. He was in for a bad surprise. "Your timely arrival…"

"Be quiet!" The dozen voices thundered. Snickers and gasps were to hear from the audience. "I'm only here because you didn't perform your duty."

"My Lady…" This didn't go as expected. She had to respect him. He was the great Albus Dumbledore.

"I said be quiet," the voice thundered again, this time even louder, loud enough actually to cow him and make everybody else back down. "This isn't the first time you neglected your duty, Albus Dumbledore. This isn't the first time a student's life was threatened while being under your care. Sometimes you can't help it. Sometimes accidents happen. But this was unnecessary. You had been warned. You could have prevented this from happening. But you didn't care. The welfare of the students isn't foremost on your mind as it should be."

"But my lady…"

"ENOUGH!" The crowd was shocked as the almighty Albus Dumbledore found himself on the ground, blasted from his feet by the sheer force of Hogwarts' voice. No one dared snicker right now. This being was simply too terrifying. Any doubt about the generation old rumours of Hogwarts being sentient came to a screeching end with the sight of this powerful being. Some adult who had visited Hogwarts themselves in the past had been dreaming about some _whispers in the dark_ , some invisible entity that counselled the headmaster in his dreams and invisibly watched over the students. None of them however had expected to actually see and hear her.

"I'll give you one last chance, Albus Dumbledore. Use it well. Until the tournament ends, you are on probation. When the schoolyear ends, if the situation remains the same, I will suspend you. Hogwarts deserves better. Our students deserve better."

More gasps, cries of "can she do that?" filled the air. The sight of the broken headmaster however answered that question. Yes, she could.

"And Albus? Until then none of the house-elves will answer your calls. You didn't appreciate their work and wisdom in the past. Now prove that you deserve it in the first place."

No house-elves. No tea, no cookies and no new lemon drops. Albus saw a bleak future ahead.

.

 _ **Hospital Wing**_

.

They had barely been in the Hospital Wing for ten minutes and they already knew that even their combined knowledge wouldn't be enough to save the boy. Hell, there was a hole, straight through his chest, two inch in diameter at the breast and more than double that at the back. Out of sheer luck, it hadn't hit any organ but the shock and blood loss alone would be enough to kill him. The other injuries were harmless in comparison. It was a miracle that he was still alive, even with the Stasis spell working its wonders.

"We have to get him to St. Mungo's," Madam Pomfrey declared calmer than she felt but with no more hope than she saw in Paul's eyes.

"That won't be necessary," an old voice announced, interrupting their dark thoughts. Paul and Poppy whirled around. They had to look down to find the speaker, calmly walking through the room until she was standing at the statue of Helga Hufflepuff that dominated one of the corners of the Hospital, had been standing there for centuries before even Albus Dumbledore graced the corridors of Hogwarts with his presence. It was the elderly house-elf Paul had already noticed at the arena watching the task. Matron Mathilda was at her side and from close up the age difference was even more discernible. This other house-elf was truly ancient and a little otherworldly.

"Mathilda?" He asked with a low voice.

"She'll help," Matron Mathilda offered him a sad but hopeful smile.

Parvati hearing these words sobbed and clung even more to Hermione. The teenagers had followed their friend to the Hospital and tried to stay out of the healer's way as good as possible. Harry was watching the scene with his arm around Luna's shoulders, drawing strength from her, as the blonde was the only one around who wasn't desperate. She didn't seem to have the slightest doubt that Michael would survive, wherever that trust stemmed from.

The ancient house-elf patted the statue, her tiny size only allowing her to reach up to Helga's knee. "He really needs your help, Helga. He is one of your boys and got really hurt, and only because of that blasted…" What followed was a string of cusses that hadn't been heard since before the arrival of William the Conqueror. Even Poppy didn't understand a single word, but by the blushing of Matron Mathilda it wasn't anything nice or appropriate for teenager ears. Only the name Albus they didn't miss. One thing however Poppy stored away in her memory: _He is one of your boys, Helga_. Madam Sprout had mentioned her opinion more than once that Michael Bain was a Hufflepuff at heart and not a Gryffindor. After today's show of Michael's brashness, Poppy wasn't so certain anymore, but apparently this house-elf shared that sentiment.

"Sorry, Helga, for the outburst. I'm simply so angry about this nonsense." She glanced towards Michael and opened her satchel. "If it's okay Helga, I would like to give Poppy the means to help the boy. Are you alright with it?"

After everything they had experienced today, Poppy wouldn't have been surprised to see the statue come alive. Naturally, she did not, but somehow she seemed to answer the question. At least, the ancient house-elf nodded happily. "Thank you, Helga. Poppy won't disappoint you. You know it."

She turned around and walked to Michael's bed, pulling something out of her satchel and offering it to Poppy. The medi-witch nearly fainted as she realized the nature of the object. "Is this…"

"Yes," the house-elf simply confirmed. "You may use it, for him and him only. Nobody else than you may touch it. Only the boy may drink from it. I'll return to get it back after he gets better." Her ancient eyes drilled holes into Poppy. "Don't mess this up, Poppy. You're the first healer allowed to use her cup for three lifetimes of my folk."

"I won't. Thank you." With trembling hands Poppy accepted the cup from the house-elf – Helga Hufflepuff's cup. Now the boy truly had a chance.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Arena stands**_

.

With two of the champions in the hospital ward, the annunciation of the task's result was somewhat lacking. At least, Fleur Delacour was back, her little sister trying not to cling too much to her as she was still a bit in pain. But she was standing again, only needing the support of her mother's hand when walking around. Nobody knew what had happened to her in the meantime outside the small group, and none of them would ever tell.

To Albus' relief, the magical being that all assumed to somehow be Lady Hogwarts – not that _she_ had ever claimed to be – had departed, allowing him to recollect at least a modicum of pride and dignity. "And now, ladies and gentlemen, here is the result of the first task. While he didn't get the egg, Michael Bain showed a surprisingly broad arsenal of spells mostly from the category of distraction. For his failed attempt, he gets fifteen out of fifty points." With twenty-five points being reserved for actually getting the egg, his result wasn't all too bad. Albus assumed the other headmasters had been generous because Michael had been so seriously injured and in the end it didn't matter if he had five or twenty-five points. He was a dead-end anyway.

"Next we have Fleur Delacour, Champion of Beauxbatons." More than one wizard noticed that he hadn't called Michael Bain the Champion of Hogwarts. "Miss Delacour used a powerful charm to put her adversary into magically induced sleep. The spell nearly lasted long enough and she actually got the egg. However, she was seriously injured by dragon fire and she only used a very small number of spells in her attempt. Because of this, Miss Delacour gets 38 points." Meaning she actually got fewer points than Michael for her spell selection. Madam Maxime had disagreed with the subtraction as the injury had occurred after the official end of the task, but she had been overruled by the others.

"In the second place," the audience waited for the name with baited breath. "we have Harry Potter." The announcement earned him a mix of approval and catcalls. The boy had really impressed the masses, even if some of the conservatives had been unhappy about the boy's lack of wizard spells use. "He used a broad range of spells from the wizarding and shamanistic school in addition to his impressive physical abilities. A well-rounded champion, I may testify. We subtracted three points because he needed longer than Miss Delacour and Mister Krum." And there had been Headmaster Karkaroff and his admittedly dubious judging, assessing only one out of five points for spell selection. "In the end, Harry Potter earns himself 43 points for his admirable success."

"And last but not least, we have Mister Viktor, Krum, Champion of Durmstrang." Wild cheering followed. "He was the fastest to get the egg and was one of only two champions not injured in his attempt. We only subtracted three points for the small number of spells used," something Karkaroff hadn't been happy about, "leaving him with a stunning 47 point result." The crowd hooted and jeered.

"In February, we'll continue with the second task. Until then, the champions have the occasion to get some clues from the golden egg they retrieved." All champions aside Michael Bain at least, Albus mused. He hadn't heard from the boy so far. Had he survived? Certainly, Poppy would have told him otherwise. "With this, I conclude the day of the first task of this tournament." He carefully omitted the word _tri-wizard_ , at it would only remind them of the humiliating start of the tournament.

At least, this day seemed to be over – more or less. For a while he would be allowed to relax and to recover, but without tea and cookies this time. Albus wasn't a happy headmaster right now.

.

Tom had watched the show and was deep in thoughts. The appearance of this being could complicate his plans. How much did it know? How far was it willing to influence the events at Hogwarts? At least, it seemed to be unhappy with the headmaster. He hoped that this meant it would allow him to continue with his plans to remove the Headmaster and destroy his political career forever.

 _We will see._

.

Barty Crouch was unhappy as well. The boy should have died. For a moment it had looked like the Hungarian Horntail would do its job, only to have this strange entity appear on the scene. There was nothing he could have done to prevent it. But now he knew what to expect. Next time he would be more careful. The second task was more harmless in nature than the first one. He had to make certain that the Mermen would kill the boy.

With a bit of luck Lady Hogwarts wouldn't show up again. He had three months to plan the boy's demise. He intended to use that time well.

 _._

 _ **A/N**_

 _A bit more about the Spirit and the ancient house-elf in future chapters; they won't turn out as "always around problem-solvers", only intervening this time because they really had to._

 _And yes, I used the name Catriona for the dragon again like I did in my trilogy._

 _About the Cup: remember that it isn't a Horcrux in this story._

 _ **Next Chapter:**_

 _Next chapter will be delayed a bit because I'm on holiday for a few weeks._


	15. Chapter 15 The Day after

_**The Day after**_

.

 _ **Hospital Wing – 22**_ _ **nd**_ _ **of November**_

.

"You're unreasonable. I really need to have a look at that cup."

The man whining into Poppy Pomfrey's ears was nobody else than Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. The old man had barely heard whispers about the cup not being hidden anymore before he stormed the hospital, completely oblivious to the fact that Michael Bain was still there, in magically induced coma and needing his peace. Poppy had barely been able to grab the priceless artefact before the Headmaster's sticky hands reached for it. She had to restrain herself from slap his hands away.

Minerva McGonagall, once one Poppy's closest friends, had been following the headmaster and now watched the exchange with pouting lips. She always bore that sour lemon face in the past few weeks. Decades ago they had been friends, nearly close enough to describe them as BFF. Back then, Poppy hadn't expected it to change ever, but change it did. It started right after the troll incident. Minerva's inability to admit her own fault in the matter and her stubborn refusal that the headmaster could be blamed for Hermione's injuries had driven a wedge between the women that only grew with every month and every incident. After Hermione's return one year later and Minerva's bad reaction to the girl's wish of getting resorted, their former friendship dissolved more and more. Sometimes, she still felt bad about it and wished her friend back, but it had been Minerva's decision to turn into a brainless lapdog of the great Albus Dumbledore. Today, she was nearly as bad as Molly Weasley.

"Unreasonable?" Poppy hissed. "I'm unreasonable? I only got the cup for the treatment of this one patient, a patient I may add I only have because of your lacking precautions around the dragon task." She pulled the cup into a close hug. "Without the cup Michael would have died," she whispered angrily.

Albus rubbed his hands and tried to use his best grandfatherly smile, while Minerva looked like she wanted to spit nails. "Nonetheless, think about it how much good we could do using it. We have to learn as much as possible about it, how it works or if it is possible to replicate it."

"You still don't get it, do you?" Poppy sighed. "It's not mine to give away. I'm only allowed to use it on Michael, nobody else. No giving away, no examining, none of that. Her order was very clear."

"She had no right…" Albus began, only to have Poppy interrupt him.

"No right? Who else than Granny would have a right?" She pointed towards the statue of Helga Hufflepuff. "I don't know if she really got an answer from Helga, but I have no doubt that she has a better grasp of Helga's wishes than any living human. She was entrusted with taking care of the cup. Nobody else should even try to interfere."

"You can't be serious," for the first time since entering he hospital, Minerva spoke. And her first sentence was already enough for Poppy to wish her leave. "Those rumours about her being… being… I can't even say it. It's too silly even thinking about it."

"You mean that ridiculous rumour that Granny is the oldest house-elf alive in Great Britain? The silly rumour that she has been Helga Hufflepuff's personal handmaiden one thousand years ago? Those rumours?"

Minerva nodded. "Those rumours, yes."

Poppy glared and turned around to ask Albus: "Do you share Minerva's opinion?"

Albus rubbed his hands. He wanted to decline those rumours, wanted to declare that Granny was a quite normal house-elf, only a bit older than most. But his tongue wasn't willing to obey his wishes. Forty years ago, a far younger Matron Mathilda had congratulated him on becoming the new headmaster. Granny had been there as well. It had been the first time he met the ancient house-elf, as yesterday had been the fifth in the span of four decades. From Headmaster Dippet's diary he knew that it had been the same with his tenure. Dippet had believed in those rumours about Granny, and while Albus' predecessor had been an absentminded and eccentric wizard, he had been quite knowledgeable in his own way. "I don't know," was his weak response.

Minerva blinked, not believing her ears. Poppy huffed, doing neither. Walking the line was sometimes worse than believing in something stupid.

"But none of this changes anything," Albus picked up his courage. "I need the cup. The magical society of Great Britain needs this knowledge."

"Granny…"

"Granny is old," Albus rudely stopped her complaint. "She is senile and confused and unable…"

This time it was Albus who got stopped quite rudely. The slap echoed through the room, as did the following remark. "Well done, Poppy. Well done."

Albus rubbed his burning cheek and glared at the house-elf who had used that moment to make an unbidden appearance – unbidden by Albus but certainly not Poppy. "Matron Mathilda, please listen…"

"I heard enough already." She clapped her hands, the magic of Hogwarts obeying her like it did to nobody else. Clapping once: the doors of the hospital wings opened. Twice: Albus felt himself dragged away by many tiny hands. He was too shocked to react and within seconds he was out in the corridor again. Thrice: the doors closed again, not willing to budge.

"You can't," Minerva harrumphed, unable to comprehend what she had observed.

"I can. And I did."

"He's the headmaster," Minerva complained.

"He's old, senile and confused," Mathilda deadpanned. "And he's lucky I came instead Granny. She's not amused, not in the slightest." Actually, she had been dead angry, only keeping to her rooms because she had already expected such an incident to happen from the start.

"I can feel it as well," Poppy admitted.

"Naturally you can," Mathilda smiled softly. "You're a true Hufflepuff. Just like Michael."

"Mister Bain is a Gryffindor," Minerva objected.

"Don't embarrass yourself with lies," Mathilda huffed.

"Resorting?" Poppy wondered loudly.

Mathilda shrugged. "We have to ask him when he wakes up. It is his decision."

"But the Sorting Hat…" Minerva tried again.

"Leslie did what Albus asked him to," Mathilda stopped her coldly. "But next time, he will follow his conscience. And Michael's decision."

Poppy sighed. "I wouldn't be surprised if Michael declines the chance. Not because of Gryffindor but to stay with his friends."

"I suppose you're right," Mathilda admitted. She turned around to have a look at the boy. "He's getting better."

"Yes," Poppy agreed. "The cup is helping immensely. The wound is closed, his body is regenerating now. He'll be asleep for a week at least, I suppose. But he'll live."

"That he will," Mathilda was happy about her promise being unbroken. In a slightly better mood but a little sad as well, she addressed Minerva a last time before leaving. "You changed, Minerva. I don't remember when and why but you did. I remember your first day at Hogwarts. You were such a special child. An intellect I have rarely seen in these halls, a wish to learn and a true talent for magic. Leslie wanted to put you into Ravenclaw but even back then you already were a true believer. Albus the great, Albus the unbelievable, Albus who can't go wrong. You forced your way into Gryffindor and perhaps that was the first step of your downfall." Minerva stood there, dumbstruck. She had nothing to respond to this. "I had such great expectations of you. Filius believed in your future." Minerva felt her eyes wet. Her relation with Filius Flitwick, the diminutive Charms Master, had been tense for years, growing more strained with every year Misses Lovegood and Granger belonged to his house. "But where is that girl now, Minerva? I see nothing of her anymore." Minerva gulped but said nothing.

She offered Poppy a last smile. "Take care of the boy."

"I will," Poppy said to the empty air as Mathilda had popped away. With a sigh she returned to her patient. To Minerva, there was nothing to say anymore.

.

 _ **Corridors of Hogwarts – 24**_ _ **th**_ _ **of November**_

.

Harry and his friends were on their way to the hospital wing. It was time for their daily visit, not that they expected any change from yesterday. Jenny was accompanying them today while Parvati was not. The Indian girl had said something about following later and "I'll have to get someone first". _Someone, not something_ , Harry mused, having no idea whom she was speaking about. An elbow into his rips jolted him out of his daydreams – a very pointy elbow. Looking up, he noticed Professor Moody waiting for them.

"Potter!" He greeted them, rudely ignoring the rest of the group.

"Professor!" Harry made a hint of a bow. He didn't like Moody but respected him.

Teenager and Professor eyed each other warily for some time, long enough actually to make Hermione uncomfortable. "We'll wait inside," she declared and tried to pull Luna into the hospital. The blonde however didn't budge one inch and only watched the silent exchange with dreamy eyes. With a defeated sigh, Hermione stopped her attempt to get away and followed Luna's lead, only without the dreamy eyes. She was still working on that part.

"I have to apologize," Professor Moody offered after a while. He looked like in deep pain for having to say those words. "For intruding your mind and everything."

Harry blinked. He hadn't expected that. Actually, the Legilimency attack hadn't been unexpected. Remus had warned him about the Headmaster's talent at the mind arts. It was hardly a surprise that others would be able to do the same, especially someone like an infamous ex Auror and current DADA teacher.

"You don't trust me," he responded instead of simply accepting the apology.

"Can't say that I do," Moddy answered quite gruffly.

"Why?"

"You're important in this war. Both sides will try to get you on their side. But we don't know you. You have been living somewhere with people we don't know." Jenny growled in anger and Harry was relieved to watch Luna put an arm around Jenny's waist. His sister was mighty angry towards Moody but wouldn't instigate a fight with Luna this close. Jenny recognized the trick as well. With a deep frown towards Luna, she hissed "Bitch!" but there was more love than anger in her voice. Luna only smiled back.

For a moment, even Professor Moody was a tad confused by the exchange, but he got a grip on himself and continued. "We don't know who you really are. You're able to use weird talents and strange magics. How much did it change you? Are you trustworthy? A friend or an enemy? We had to know. We still do."

"Observation and diligent questioning are two important and efficient tools in the trade of an investigator," Hermione suggested calmly, citing a paragraph from the "Auror Basics" manual. Moody blinked in her direction as if he just noticed her presence. "Harry is careful in protecting his people. This alone should tell you something about his character. Luna trusts him, not only with her own life but mine as well." Harry's eyes widened. Luna's small nod confirmed Hermione's assertion and Jenny didn't exactly looked as if she was surprised by the statement. "He is the good one here." After spending weeks with the boy and watching him around Luna, Jenny and Floe, Hermione really believed that. His persistent support of Michael had only been the last straw to convince her. "You simply should have asked him. Perhaps he would have dodged some of your questions to protect others, but he wouldn't have lied to you. Certainly, you are Auror enough to realize that."

The last statement was a whipping insult but Moody didn't look angry. "I'll think about it, lass." There was a hint of respect in his voice. "And now, Potter? Do you accept my apology?"

Harry just wanted to say "I accept" as Luna beat him to it. "Only under one condition."

"I have a condition?" Harry mumble-asked.

"You have," Luna nodded happily.

"What condition?" Moody asked warily.

"You have to train Harry and Jenny." She got stares from everybody.

"I don't know if that's a good idea," Harry uttered with a concerned glance towards his sister. She looked far too eager right now. He could nearly see the pictures flittering through her mind. They had something to do with hunter, prey and sharp claws.

"Actually, it's a very good idea," Hermione supported her sister. "Sooner or later Malfoy and his bunch of thugs will try to attack you. I mean, _someone_ ensured that you're a part of the tournament. Certainly, this _someone_ didn't do that for some kind of belated birthday party. _Someone_ will try to kill or abduct you, at the latest when they realize they can't influence you." Moody listened intently. The girl was only saying what Albus had said himself three weeks ago. "You have to be prepared." Hermione looked up towards Jenny. "And Jenny as well. I know, she can't learn to cast the spells, but it would certainly help if she recognizes them, knows the incantations, gestures and visual effects of often used curses. And you could train to dodge them."

"Wouldn't Professor Flitwick be more appropriate?" Moody asked, confirming Hermione's conclusions about the dangers and training by silently accepting them. "You already spend time with him and you trust him. And he is a former duelling champion."

"Exactly why Harry and Jenny have to train with you," Hermione answered exactly how he expected her to do. The girl was even sharper than he had thought so far. "He is a duelling champion," she continued. "Voldy's thugs don't duel. They attack in numbers like the cowards they are. They fight dirty and like to ambush. At the Quidditch cup they even attacked defenceless Muggles. And in the last war they tried to use numbers as often as possible. Percy told me how his Uncles died. Gideon and Fabian Prewitt were ambushed by no less than five cowards because they didn't dare to attack them on equal footing. This isn't duelling. This isn't a Kata between Karateka, following rules and honour. They won't stop when you're down and allow you to get up again. It's more like all-out brawling with rusty chains and broken bottles." She hesitated for a moment before asking Moody: "am I right?"

"Damn right you are," he confirmed harshly.

"Professor Flitwick is a Samurai. Professor Moody is the Ronin. Percy told me that even the Death Eaters in the first war feared Auror Mad-eye. They certainly had reason to do so. Your using Legilimency on a teenager shows me that you didn't change one bit." She narrowed her eyes as she asked: "you still don't really regret doing it, do you? You would try it again if you had the chance to get away with it."

"She's a clever one, Potter. You should listen to her."

"And you should listen to me now," Harry responded with a cold voice. "I accept your apology under Luna's condition. We'll train with you. It's in our interest and the headmaster's as well. But I won't keep my sister back the next time you attempt Legilimency on me or any of my friends. Are we in agreement?"

Moody stared him in the eye for a while, tried to make him back down under his withering glare, but the boy didn't budge. He offered a small smile. Perhaps the boy wasn't hopeless. Moody nodded. "We are in agreement."

.

 _ **A wee bit later**_

.

They had been doing their homework for a while, Madam Pomfrey allowing it as she had currently no other patients. The teenagers looked up as their delayed friend arrived as well.

"Hello Parv… Parvati?" Harry blinked. Yes, it was Parvati alright, but she wasn't alone. He had expected her to arrive with someone else as announced, but certainly not this one. Riding on her shoulder, glancing around like a queen and easily as haughty as one, was Michael's owl Hedwig in all of her snow-white glory. The pair looked quite cute, with Hedwig's brilliant white feathers being a deep contrast to Parvati with her creamy skin and that jet-black shoulder-long hair. Remembering Madam Pomfrey and expecting some kind of good scolding if the Matron discovered the unusual guest, he was relieved to see her nowhere in sight.

Hermione raised a single eyebrow at the unexpected sight, getting a shrug in return. "She really missed him," Parvati justified her decision.

Hermione had no doubt that was true. Since Michael got the snow-white owl as a present from Madam Longbottom, she had been unusually close to him. Her presence had always had a calming influence on the boy and Hermione had no doubt that Michael visited her the evening before the task.

"I took care of her since… since the task. I think she liked that but she got moodier every day as if she felt that something is wrong with Michael. It's nearly like Hedwig has some maternal instinct towards him," she ended with a soft smile.

"Auntish," Luna corrected her, gently stroking the owl's feathers. Hedwig endured it but only after taking a good look at her human friend.

"What?"

"She has auntish feelings, not maternal. Michael already has a mother, silly." For a long time there was total silence in the hospital wing. The only noise was a low humming from Luna and the sound of her hand stroking Hedwig.

"He… he has?" Parvati hoarsely asked.

"Yes, he still has the sliver."

Harry threw his sister a questioning look. He was as confused as the rest of them. Jenny sighed. "She's speaking of… how to describe it? It's like a piece of your aura. Your aura shows connections to other people. You remember that Luna could tell you from the start that you have a strong connection with me, similar but stronger than the one she shares with Hermione?" Harry nodded. He remembered that well. "It is similar with the connection to other persons, both dead and alive. I can see your connection with Michiko and Remus, and the ones with your birth-parents. The one with your mother is stronger than with your father, I assume because of how she died."

"And you can do the same with Michael?"

"Not like Luna," Jenny shook her head. "Her senses are better than mine, more fine-tuned. I can only see the connection to his dead father – your father actually. It is weaker than yours, but it is there and it overlays those he has with his birth-parents."

"But you," Harry addressed Luna. "You can look… under this layer? You can see his connection to his real parents? You can even tell if they are alive?"

"Yes," Luna looked a tad confused, not dreamy or absent-minded but really confused. She even swayed a little and put one hand to her temple like it hurt.

"Do you…"

"Don't ask her," Jenny stopped him before Harry was able to continue.

"But…" He only wanted to ask her if she knew the identity of his mother. Michael would have loved to know, he was certain.

"No but," Jenny shook her head. "Some questions… they hurt her. It's like some questions are forbidden." She put an arm around Luna's shoulders, pulled her into a hug and stroked her back in a soothing manner. "It's okay, Luna, it's okay." Luna relaxed a little and showed her usual happy smile, but there still was a rest of confusion and pain in her eyes.

Harry stayed silent for a while, despite his urge to continue the conversation. Only when Luna was sufficiently distracted again by the owl's antics, did he ask Jenny with a low voice. "How… how did you know?"

"You know about the Nargles, right?" Harry nodded slowly. His awareness spells allowed him to see that there was something, some kind of light motes. The picture was a very hazy one. He couldn't tell if it was a collection of tiny lights, fireflies or a sort of faeries. "They are always near Luna, but sometimes there are more of them. I haven't been able to recognize the pattern so far, but when it happens she gets confused."

"I'm not able to see those Nargles like you do," Hermione interjected, sounding concerned. "But I remember a couple of cases where she got confused like that in the past. Often she has a headache afterwards. And she doesn't like to speak about it. So, I let it rest until now."

"So, our best guess is that Luna is able to see far more than even Jenny, but sometimes the Nargles confuse her, hide something from her," Harry summarized.

"That's our best guess I think," Hermione confirmed.

"But why?" Harry wondered. "Why should they do that?"

Jenny shrugged, having no idea.

Hermione thought about it for a while before she guessed. "They're protecting her."

"Protecting?"

Hermione nodded, surer now. "They assume the knowledge to be dangerous for Luna to know. Think about Michael. We all know or at least guess that his story about the poor orphan he rescued from the ugly Muggle orphanage is bullshit. What if his heritage is far darker, far more dangerous for others to know?"

"It sounds right," Jenny admitted. "When Luna started to think about Michael's parents, the Nargles gathered around her. As you wanted to ask for more details, it was like an angry bee swarm whizzing around her head."

"Do you think someone influences the Nargles to act like this?"

"No, don't think so," Jenny declined the idea. "I really think they're doing this on their own and purely to protect her."

"Perhaps…" Hermione hesitated. She had pondered the idea of directing Luna towards different topics and watching the Nargles' reaction. However, that was too scientific, too cold and not how she wanted to act around her beloved sister, not to think of the headaches Luna would have to endure. She shook her head, recognizing similar thoughts in Harry's eyes. Luna's well-being was more important than knowing.

"Luna is really special, isn't she?" Harry asked softly.

"That she is," Hermione agreed.

.

"Do you know…" Harry asked a while later when he was alone with his sister.

"Know what?"

"If your mother is still alive."

"I don't have to use my senses to know that," Jenny responded harshly. "My mother is alive. And her name is Michiko."

Harry rolled his eyes, unfazed by her anger. "You know what I mean."

Jenny sighed. "Yes, I know. And no, I can't see it. Like with Michael, I'm only able to see my connection with Michiko and Remus, not the one I share with my birth-parents."

"Have you asked Luna?"

"No," Jenny gazed into the distance. "I don't want to know."

"Sometimes not knowing is easier," Harry understood.

"Yeah, sometimes it is."

.

 _ **Hogwarts – shack of Paul and Jenny**_

.

Harry hastily closed the egg and the piercing clamour was silenced again. He glared at the golden egg like it was personally responsible for the noise and in a way it was. Opening it had been easy enough, but for now he wasn't one step closer to sussing out the hint it was meant to contain. With Michael still in his magically induced sleep, Harry intended to use the time and work on the egg's secret. He wanted to have it ready when Michael woke up. It was against the rules, naturally, but he didn't care one bit. If he literally followed the rules, he wasn't allowed to directly tell Michael about the hint. Wouldn't stop him from allowing the girls to listen to the egg, completely incidentally naturally, and letting them tell Michael what they had learned. Spirits, in the end only speaking about it was forbidden, not writing or drawing a picture. It was ridiculous, really. But first, he had to decipher the hint for himself.

"That was kind of shrill," Hermione deadpanned. She had hoped for more, had been ready with paper and pencil to write down whatever came out of the golden egg, expecting it to release some kind of song or poem like the Sorting Head did every year.

"It was a female voice," Jenny commented. "But like that one woman which tried to out-scream a starting aeroplane on a TV show. Or perhaps the other one that was able to destroy drinking glasses with her voice." Harry remembered that one as well. Nine year old Jenny had been quite impressed and tried for days to replicate the performance. She sighed. "In any case, the voice hurt my ears."

"But the egg is nice," Luna lifted the egg and eyed it close-up, following the lines with her finger. "Beautiful engravings, they remind me…" She hummed a little and narrowed her eyes. Her friends waited for her to continue, not even daring to guess where her sometimes a little erratic mind was wandering now.

"Is it a human voice or from some animal? Or perhaps a magical race?" Hermione wondered, remembering a couple of animals both Mundane and Magical that had human-like voices.

"I think it is a real language," Luna responded, her eyes now only centimetres above the surface like she wanted to pierce holes through the shell with her glare. "Too many different sounds, some of them being used several times." Harry hadn't noticed that but trusted Luna to know what she was speaking of. "But no human language, it's from some other race. Not Yuan-Ti or Trollish, those languages have other sounds." Even Hermione was impressed. She knew those races had their own languages, but she would be hard-pressed to recognize them.

"I would like to try something," Jenny interrupted their conversation. "If I give you a sign, open the egg again. I have to prepare something beforehand." Luna nodded happily. There was nothing to detect about Jenny, no change and she certainly did nothing obvious – at least not obvious to Harry and Hermione. Only Luna noticed a change in her magical aura, especially around her ears. It was like Jenny transformed the magic around them, and changed how it worked. At last, Jenny gave the signal and Luna opened the egg, unfazed by the loud noises that battered the audience. Luna had only eyes for Jenny and the tiny changes she conducted. It was clear, at least for the quirky blonde, that Jenny used her Adept powers to magically change how her ears worked. She was kind of fine-tuning it now, it seemed. But what exactly was the intended effect?

"Close it," Jenny ordered after a while and Harry sighed with relief as the screams vanished again. It had really started to hurt. "Water," Jenny simply stated. "It's unintelligible because we use the wrong audio frequency. We have to listen to it under water." That made sense. Harry knew that Jenny was able to change her senses, be it her ears to listen to underwater sounds or to adapt her eyes to the glaring sunlight in the snowy whites of a Canadian winter. "Not that it really helps," Jenny concluded. "Admittedly I was able to hear real words this time, but I understood none of them."

"One step at a time," Hermione said with a confident smile. "Now we know at least that we have to listen to it under water. We'll do that next. Perhaps we're able to discern the language used, and go on from there." Actually, she hoped for Luna to be able to help with that part. While Hermione had started to learn a couple of mundane languages over time, Luna had always been more interested in the magical ones.

"How do want to do this?" Jenny wondered. "The Lake is too cold for a little swimming."

"I'll ask Cedric," Hermione offered. "He's one of the Hufflepuff Prefects." She knew him because of her friendship with Percy, who had not only been Prefect and Headboy but was also Cedric's neighbour. "I'm sure he'll allow us to use the Prefect bath."

.

Hermione had been right about Cedric. He had been impressed by how Harry had handled his dragon, impressed enough to help him now without hesitation. It certainly helped that Hermione mentioned Michael and how Harry wanted to have solved the riddle before he woke up. Loyalty to a friend and housemate was very important to a Hufflepuff.

So, it was on the next afternoon when Cedric let them into the Prefect's bath, watching the door while the friends slipped into the water to listen to the egg. Cedric smiled softly as he noticed the longing looks from both Harry and Luna. The blonde girl was slowly growing into a real beauty and Harry, despite his age, was drawing more than some eyes to his athletic physique. Cedric knew a couple of girls from his house that would start to drool if standing in his place, Susan Bones being among them according to her comments in the past weeks. _Hunk_ was one of the descriptions she had used. Thankfully, she had already realized what was all too clear to Cedric: Harry was off the single market already and had been since he first saw Luna.

Cedric exchanged a nod with Hermione as the girl followed her friends. He knew from his friendship with Percy that the girl had a hard time because of her old injuries. It seemed, she got more comfortable about it at least among her friends. _Her limp is less marked now as well_ , he mused. It was more difficult to not ogle Jenny, however. She was drawing looks everywhere when wearing comfortable clothes. Now, in her two piece swimsuit it became even more obvious how much Karate and Dancing classes had shaped and toned her body. Cedric really tried to keep his eyes above her shoulders, but according to her playful wink he failed miserably. He sighed with a shudder of relief as the teenagers vanished below the water surface.

"I didn't understand a single word," Harry stated as he resurfaced after a while. "It's a female voice alright and a beautiful one, but the words are unlike anything I ever heard."

Jenny agreed with her brother, while Luna looked thoughtful "I think it's Mermish."

"The language of the Mermen?" Cedric asked.

"It makes sense in a way," Hermione commented. "A tribe of them lives in the Lake, so perhaps the next task will happen over there."

"In the lake?" Cedric lifted a single eyebrow. "Isn't the next task in February? The Lake is damned cold in February, sometimes even frozen over."

Hermione blinked. "Cedric, you're funny." Cedric pointed towards himself like asking _me?_ "Yes, you," Hermione nodded. "You're trying to use logic to question the thoughts of a couple of Ministry officials? Really?"

Cedric snickered as did Jenny and Harry. Luna swam closer to Hermione, grabbed her shoulders and stared her in the eye very closely. "What?" Hermione barked. "Only wondering who you are. Rule-abiding Hermione disrespecting officials?" Luna replied. Hermione playfully pushed her away. "You're speaking of the old Hermione. I changed."

"That you did. For your own good."

.

They had left the bath a bit later. Cedric had offered to ask his father for help.

"He's working in the magical creatures department. The Ministry counts Mermen and Goblins among those _creatures_ , irrespective of how wrong it is." Hermione smiled content that he shared her sentiment about the Ministry's prejudices. "I remember him mentioning a spell for understanding their language." Cedric sighed. "Mister Crouch is famous for speaking dozens of languages, Mermish among them. But I suppose we can't exactly ask him for help."

"No," Harry denied. "He was hardly helpful so far, very unlike Mister Bagman. That one was a little too eager."

"Careful about that one," Cedric warned. "My father told me that Bagman is infamous for his penchant for betting. There are a couple of rumours he lost big at the Quidditch cup and wasn't able to get out of the books. I wouldn't be surprised if he's trying to make money with the tournament."

"Isn't it illegal?" Hermione asked with a deep frown. "I mean, he is a judge, certainly he can't bet on the outcome if he is able to influence it at the same time."

"Hermione, you're funny," Cedric grinned. "Remember? Officials and logic, two worlds collide, a contrast of biblical dimensions."

Hermione glared. "Thinking you're funny, Diggory?"

"Yes, actually I do," he responded, hastening away to dodge her slap. That girl had a mean right hook.

The afternoon ended in a lighter mood than it started. They were closer to lifting the veil hiding the hint. Soon, very soon they would know. And Michael as well.

.

 _ **Dancing Classes**_

.

Cedric congratulated himself for his decision to take a "refresher" in dancing. Naturally, as a member of the House of Diggory he had already taken formal dancing classes in the past. He had been at a number of balls since turning thirteen and met quite a few very skilled dancers so far. His own mother was an incredible exact ballroom dancer and a very harsh teacher to add. He still felt the ruler she used in an old-fashioned way to show her displeasure about the slightest faults in stance and step sequence. Professor McGonagall, who had started today's class, was the same. There was not the slightest fault in her dancing, but also not the tiniest emotion. She had convinced a couple of Beauxbatons students to act as assistant teachers. They apparently had dancing classes – as well as those in music and arts– at the French school as part of their curriculum. The French students were very graceful and it was fun to watch them. Naturally, Fleur drew the most eyes, and more than one boy got a slap or scolding from his dancing partner for ogling the Veela. In a way, Cedric pitied the girl. Her life couldn't be easy. She still moved a little more careful than before the task, apparently not fully trusting her recovered leg. It was surprise enough to see her mostly healed again after the burning she took from the dragon. He had expected a longer recovery. Cedric assumed Paul Masterson had something to do with it. The sudden surge in the respect she showed around him was conspicuous.

Cedric looked around. The dancing class was well-attended. While most boys had groaned at the ball's announcement – and paled as they realized this meant to speak with girls and ask them out – the girls had been overly excited. Madam Malkin and a couple other tailors were expected on Sunday to allow the girls to choose from hundreds of dresses. And the boys, Cedric among them, had to think about getting a new robe. At least the boys of Hogwarts had. The French students naturally had been prepared in advance and the students from Durmstrang would stay with their military style uniforms. Cedric was jealous. Those uniforms looked far better than Hogwarts robes, far more dashing. It was a bit like those hussar uniforms he saw in an old-fashioned film about the 1815 Congress of Vienna.

Yes, all in all the ball was a great idea. He couldn't wait for it to happen. Especially because…

Cedric glanced in the siblings' direction. Harry was at the centre of envy again, but today it was because of his dancing skills not his name. It showed that he had been trained by a master dancer for the past decade. It looked like dancing simply came natural to him. Certainly it helped that he had a well-trained body, had a strength and endurance very rare among wizards. But most of all he seemed to like to dance. It wasn't a tribulation for him, very unlike with most other boys who enjoyed every break possible and thought it already to be a success to finish a single dance without treading on their dance partner's feet. Harry was running circles, helping here and there with a different dance partner every dance, under the frowning glares of Professor McGonagall and the longing looks of Luna Lovegood. _Did he ask her to be his dancing partner on the ball already_? Cedric wondered. _I'll have to ask him later._

He had already heard stories about Harry's teaching talents and now he saw him in action. While Professor McGonagall insisted on exactness in stance and motion, Harry focussed on the joy of the dance. "It's not a dancing competition," he explained more than once. "For most of you it's your first ball. I remember my first one vividly and so will you. Hopefully it will be a good memory. You have to work on that part. You have done well when your dancing partner leaves the dancing floor with a broad smile, skipping and humming. And you have to show her that you enjoy it as well. It's not like you are forced to be there. You want to be there, with her. She is the most important girl in the room, the princess of the night." The girls were swooning from simply listening to him and a number of boys looked thoughtful.

"You can dance like this." He grabbed one of the girls and made a good imitation of McGonagall's dancing, not the slightest fault to detect but it could have been animated armour doing the dance. The girl frowned and didn't look happy. "Did you like this? Did this give you the feeling of I want another dance?" The girl shook her head. Harry smiled. "Let's try it again." He stepped back before advancing towards her again, this time with a smile and a wink that made her blush. Pulling her closer than before he danced with far more emotion this time, not perfect in stance and steps but reacting better to his dancing partner. The whole time he looked happy and everyone had the impression that he enjoyed his time with the girl. She certainly did. Far too soon for her the dance was over and he said his farewell with a hand kiss. "Better?" He asked with a low husky voice. The girl was only able to nod, simply not trusting her voice. _Better!_

Cedric sighed. And then there was Jenny. She was dance personified. _She'll be the queen of the dance_ , Cedric mused. He had once visited a ballet, a performance of the Royal Ballet School. There had been some incredible dancers among the ensemble, but in his eyes none of them compared to Jenny. She was floating around with an expression like she wasn't all there but somewhere else. None of her many dancing partners had the slightest chance to keep up. _How can I compare to that_? At the beginning, when he first heard from his father about the ball, he had thought about asking Cho Chang to be his partner. She was beautiful, athletic and graceful and obviously quite smitten with him. Without sounding conceited, it was quite clear she wanted to become his girlfriend. But then he remembered the stories about her bullying other girls, harassing Luna, something that only stopped after Hermione once lost it in the Ravenclaw dorms. In a way, Cho was apparently to blame for the beginning of the friendship between Hermione and Luna, if quite unwillingly. It didn't change the fact he hated bullies. So now he had only to get his act together and ask Jenny out.

 _Only! No pressure._

.

 _ **On the sidelines**_

Albus liked what he saw. In his eyes, it was a success that Minerva had been able to convince the boy to help her with the dancing lessons. Potter even seemed to envoy the afternoon. Perhaps there was still hope. That he spent more time with other girls, more appropriate to his name and heritage, and not with Lovegood and Granger, was only a welcome bonus. Potter was going on fifteen, time to get him a pureblood fiancée from one of the older light-sided houses.

"You see, he is a happy boy," he commented towards the man at his side. Because he watched Harry the whole time, he overlooked the amusement and mirth dancing in the eyes of one _Sirius Black_. Albus invited him in an attempt to soothe the waves between them. While he didn't absolutely need Sirius on his side, it would make things easier, especially when it came to keep Potter in Britain at the end of the year. Politically speaking, Black was the third most influential man right now. An alliance between his grey block and Albus' army of the light could even overpower Lucius and his evil maniacs, both in the political arena and in real battles should it ever come to that. Naturally, Black had first to get rid of some of his more unsavoury allies like Nott Sr., but he would certainly see sense sooner or later.

"It looks that way," Sirius agreed. Dumbledore's intentions were hardly a secret to him, but he was keen to comply for once. He wanted to meet the boy, had to meet him as his master wanted to invite the boy, perhaps not for Christmas but for the Easter or Summer break at the latest. And then he had news for his master, important news he wanted to share. He glanced to the back of the room, where _Ginny Weasley_ was dancing with a Ravenclaw. Sometimes he wondered about his master and his changed attitude. Was it the teenager body influencing him or was it simply the result of this being the younger Voldemort, a man he never met in the past? He was still too much of a coward to even think about betraying him, but the situation could be useful. Pettigrew certainly didn't intend to become once again the laughing stock and punching bag of the other death eaters. He wanted to be important in the organisation and hoped that his master would remember his loyalty later.

"You should speak with him," Albus suggested.

Sirius wanted to air-pump but stayed with the uncertain look. "You really think so? He doesn't know me."

Albus put a hand on his shoulder. Pettigrew snickered at the thought of Albus' reaction should he ever learn of his true identity. "Yes, you should. James wanted you to be his godfather. You should have a part in his life."

"Alright," Sirius sighed. "I'll give it a try."

.

 _ **Near the punch bowl**_

"Viktor? Where did you get that silly idea from?" Hermione asked. She tried to sound surprised but she was a bad actor. She had only attended the dancing class because Luna begged her to accompany her, even going as far as using those puppy-eyes on her. Her stiff leg was a hindrance and she hated how much it turned every attempt of her to move gracefully on the floor into a bad joke. She saw the looks of the other girls, some derisive, some full of pity. Both hurt equally.

"The rumour is that he asked you to the dance," Parvati responded. To Hermione's shock Padma nodded. "She's right. Even the other Claws spoke about it. They aren't happy. You should be careful," she warned her friend. The other girls certainly weren't above pranking her out of jealousy. Especially not one Cho Chang. Since her approach of Cedric had been rejected – very politely but rejected nonetheless – she had been pouting the whole day.

"You want to know what happened?" Hermione asked and both Patils eagerly nodded. Different as they were, they both shared a few girlish traits among it the eagerness to hear rumours about the love life of their schoolmates. "Viktor is often hiding in the library because of his fangirls. Most of them don't dare to follow him there or at least they don't make a fuss with Madam Pince around."

Padma fully understood that sentiment. Madam Pince liked her quite well, but she was still a termagant around the books. "You're on first name basis with him?" Parvati wanted to know.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yes, I am. Or I was at least. I am not certain that I even want to be anymore."

"So, what happened?"

"Viktor was in the library again. This time, a trio of especially annoying girls approached him. Slytherin upper years they were and they wanted him to chose between them. Somehow, they had decided that only one of them was appropriate to be his date at the ball. He didn't share their opinion, but instead of politely declining their offer, he told them some bull about already going with me."

"And do you want to go with him?" Parvati asked, earning her a slap of her sister. "What?" Parvati hissed.

"Stupido," Padma growled. "Hermione won't go to the ball at all."

"Why not?" Parvati whined. "It's the best that happened at Hogwarts since my first school day."

Hermione looked a little sad but didn't disagree. Padma gave her a friendly shoulder punch. "If you ask her, she'll tell some nonsense about not having the right dress and her hair being a mess and all that dreg. In the end it comes down to her leg. She prefers hiding to the looks she'll certainly draw at the ball."

"Have you looked around today?" Hermione hissed. "The contempt? The pity?"

"And so what?" Padma growled. She knew that Luna had tried to talk sense into her older sister, but in Padma's eyes the blonde was still too nice about that. "You're Hermione Granger, brightest witch all around and the future… whatever you want to become. You have friends, you have family. You don't have to consider the reactions of those silly gooses that are only jealous."

Hermione shrugged, appreciating Padma's attempt at pep talk. "I don't have a date for the ball."

Padma narrowed her eyes. She would let it rest – for now. "You still haven't told us the rest of that Viktor business."

Hermione sighed. "I didn't want to make him look like a fool in front of those girls, so I waited until they walked away. I approached him and tried to let him down nicely, said that I wouldn't go to the ball with him. That he should look for someone else and wished him well."

"Let me guess," Padma narrowed her eyes in anticipation. "He wasn't floored about the news."

"No, not exactly," Hermione grimaced. "Actually, he laughed. He laughed me in the face, told me that he never intended to go with me. That it was only to get rid of those girls _. I would never go with a girl like you_ , he concluded _. If you looked into the mirror from time to time you would have it guessed already_."

"What a prick."

"Yeah, he is, isn't he?" Hermione smiled again. It was good to have friends. "But don't tell Luna. I don't want any more trouble because of this."

"Alright, pinkie promise," Parvati agreed.

Regretfully, the Patils hadn't been the only ones listening to Hermione's words.

 _What a prick_ , the ears-dropper thought. _I'll show you_.

.

 _ **A wee bit later**_

The dancing class was coming to an end. For a while, a couple of students surrounded Harry, thanking him and uttering their wishes for a repetition. The thanks and farewells Professor McGonagall got were a lot more formal and born out of politeness, something she apparently noticed. _Have I stooped so low? Becoming jealous of a teenager because of the well-deserved praise he gets for being the kind of teacher I should have been?_

Matron Mathilda's words hurt her far more than she had wanted to admit even to herself. Her iron shell had cracked under her scolding and it had hurt to realize the truth. _Where has the girl I knew you to be disappeared, Minerva_? Minerva swayed a little. _Have I changed this much? I always wanted to stay true to myself._ She knew how others saw her. _Albus' lapdog_ was one of the more charming denotations used to describe her. In a way it was correct. She still thought the headmaster to be one of the greatest of wizards. It wasn't even about him defeating Grindelwald. Albus had been the moral leader of the light for more than five decades. He had been the political image of Britain for nearly the same time. With all his faults, he had never acted for his own benefit. Of this she was certain. But, perhaps Mathilda had been right. Perhaps she had put too much blind faith in him. It wasn't easy to stand up against Albus, to tell him "you're wrong in this matter". And she wasn't a teenager anymore, imprudent and rash. Sometimes, she wished to change, not completely but a little at least. To stand up to him and be the friend he deserved and needed: not only praising but also gently pointing out the issues. However, she simply lacked the drive to start this. Minerva was, as she knew deep down, too set in her ways.

She glanced towards Harry and his fan-club. Minerva knew she was a respected teacher, often belauded for her talent, power and discipline. But Harry, should he ever choose the teacher's path, would be beloved. He was the kind of teacher that got apples on the teacher's desk, cards at Christmas and even invitations to former students' weddings. His pupils would be exalted just to get into his classes and lament the end of it; and all of this simply because he acted true to his nature. He wasn't even trying to get them on his side. Minerva had no doubt that he really wished them to love dancing and to have a pleasant time at the ball. He obviously had no clue how much he had impressed the boys with his attitude, or how much the girls were crushing on him. He even got some fans among the cold-hearted Ravenclaws and the mistrusting Slytherins.

Minerva turned away and left the room, hoping that nobody noticed the tears quelling in her eyes. _Please never change, Harry. Please never follow in my steps_.

.

"Hello Harry," Sirius Black stepped into his godson's way as he was just strolling towards the exit.

"Good evening, Lord Black," Harry greeted him. He had already expected this meeting. There had been a couple of polite letters between them in the past weeks, the last overly gushing about Harry's success during the dragon task. They somehow didn't sound true. Instead they were a bit like old Miss Walker. Every time she met the Howells, she acted all polite and friendly, asking Harry's mother about school and how everybody was. But more than once Harry had overheard how she complained to other villagers about the wrongness to allow a _Jap_ to teach their children. Jenny and Harry had started to ignore the old hag so as not to lose their temper and lash out at her. Sirius Black was the same. This at least was Harry's impression among a few others.

"Tut-tut, Harry! How often did I tell you to call me Sirius?"

"That wouldn't be polite, Sir. We don't know each other that well after all." It grinded on his nerves how flippant this man was in using his first name. Yes, he had been his father's closest friend, but they had been apart for more than a decade. And Remus didn't trust this man anymore, despite their former friendship, which told Harry to do the same.

.

"What's up?" Parvati asked a dozen steps away. Hermione had put her glass down a little too forcefully and was watching the exchange between Harry and Lord Black warily. Padma had joined Harry along with Luna. _Luna_ … Hermione blinked. It had been her connection to Luna that had alarmed her. _She's frightened and confused_.

"Hermione?"

"Shut up!" It was far more the completely out of nature brusqueness than the words that stopped Parvati from pressing the matter. Instead she watched curiously what her friend was doing. Hermione pulled the images of a shamanistic spell – taught to her by Harry – out of her memory. Pulling all the happiness she felt about learning the spell, the first time she had been able to cast it, and her concern about her sister into this spell she weaved the magic. She instantly became aware of things formerly invisible. Hermione knew she had only a few seconds before she would lose control and she intended to make good use of that time. There she was – Luna, surrounded by the Nargles, heaps of them. They were buzzing around Luna's head, tried to confuse her, for her own good. Hermione felt the magic leave her senses again, swayed from exhaustion until Parvati steadied her. They had been right. The Nargles blocked Luna's senses to protect her from dangerous truths and people.

And apparently Sirius Black was one of them.

.

"Please go!" The words were barely a whisper, but Sirius Black heard them and turned around, a false and quite creepy smile plastered onto his lips.

"What did you say, young lady?"

Luna cleared her throat and repeated a little louder this time: "please go. Leave my Harry alone."

Harry blinked but certainly didn't object to being called "my Harry" by the blonde. He was nonetheless concerned about her unusual behaviour.

"Dear girl," Sirius Black replied after a long moment of stunned silence. "He is hardly _your_ Harry. He is my godson and I have the right…"

"GOOO!" Luna screamed in his face, reeling from her own explosion.

Sirius Black involuntarily took a step back, only to advance again, this time unable to suppress the expression of fury on his face. He only stopped as Harry stepped in his way, his right hand supporting Luna. She shot him a thankful look and tried to appear unfazed, which didn't convince him in the slightest.

"I wouldn't do that." Harry turned around and scolded himself for not keeping an eye on Sirius Black. He wouldn't have expected the man to draw his wand on Luna but he had started doing so when Hermione appeared. There was pure, unadulterated hate on her face, reminding him of Jenny when in full protective mode. Her wand was trained right between Black's eyes and Harry had no doubt she would attack the man the moment he fully drew his wand.

"This has gone far enough." Harry rolled his eyes as another unwelcome intrusion – Albus Dumbledore. "Miss Granger, put your wand down this instant."

"Not before Lord Black does the same," she rejected the order and showed how much disdain could be put into the word "Lord".

"I'm certain Lord Black didn't mean to threaten anybody. It was only a reflex."

"If he tries to lift that wand against Luna," Harry took Hermione's side. "I'll break his arm and that won't be a _reflex_."

"Harry, I'm still your godfather…"

"First," Harry didn't care for this right now. "I never allowed you to call me by my first name. Second, you won't be my godfather for long, not after my next letter to my father."

"Remus isn't…"

"He is my father in every way that counts. Spirits, James Potter himself agreed with my birth-mother's choice in hindsight. Godfather is a duty and a privilege, not a right," Harry breathed deeply a few times to calm down. "And third: _my_ Luna already begged you three times to leave. As you are unwilling to comply to her wishes, I have to say my farewell for now. Hermione, if you please?" While linking arms with Luna, he offered Hermione the other one, forcing her to put her wand down. She rolled her eyes, unhappy, but complied, mostly because Luna was now giddy with happiness. Harry calling her "my Luna" had made her day.

Without a last word or even a glance towards the Headmaster or Sirius Black the trio left the room, the Patils following them swiftly. They had much to talk about.

.

 _ **A few minutes later**_

Sirius Black aka Peter Pettigrew had been able to get rid of Headmaster Dumbledore only after a lengthy talk about how to minimize the danger done to Black's status as Potter's godfather. Unlike Peter, the Headmaster still had delusions about glossing over the quarrel. Peter feared, however, that the horse was out of the barn already.

He closed his eyes for a moment and concentrated on the conversation ahead. He had given the sign and was certain _Ginny Weasley_ would already be waiting for him at the agreed meeting spot. Looking around for observers or any painting near enough to watch him, he entered the classroom. The red-haired girl was already there. There was no emotion on her face, a bad sign as he knew from experience.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, I have news … about Barty Crouch."

 _Ginny_ narrowed her eyes. "I hope they are interesting." Since the task, Tom had turned his attention on the man who had, according to the history books, been one of his greatest opponents in the war. He had been the one who allowed Aurors the use of deadly force and even Unforgivables against Death Eaters. Something about him had felt wrong at the task but so far Tom wasn't certain why that was. Regretfully, Crouch was only rarely at Hogwarts, so he had to trust Pettigrew on this matter.

"It is, my Lord," Peter gushed, hoping to mollify his master. "He isn't Barty Crouch at all."

"What do you mean?"

"He's using Polyjuice," Pettigrew declared with much pride. It had been difficult to not only catch the supposed Crouch using the potion but also getting close enough to take a look at the bottle.

"And who might he be then?"

Regretfully, Pettigrew had no answer for that question. "He is living at Crouch Manor. The Manor is protected by wards and a house-elf. So far, I've not been able to breach his security; but I assume he has the real Crouch as his prisoner."

"He's living at the manor?" Tom wondered. "That would mean he forced Crouch to link him into the wards or he was able to bypass them from the start. Crouch had a son, didn't he?"

"Crouch Jr., yes," Pettigrew confirmed. "He was yours, my Lord. Took your mark and all. Really broke the old man's heart," he snickered.

"What happened to him?"

"Died in Azkaban."

"You're sure he died?"

"I've never seen the corpse," Pettigrew admitted. "But the Prophet announced his death."

"Perhaps it was a cover-up."

"Possible, yes. Sirius Black could try to learn more about the matter."

"Do that," Tom commanded. "And now about your little show in the dancing room."

No, Tom wasn't impressed, not in the slightest. And he made Pettigrew feel it. Once. Twice. And a third time to make his displeasure settle in. Absent-mindedly he watched Pettigrew writhe in pain. It still perturbed him how Lovegood had been able to smell out the danger Black/Pettigrew constituted for Potter. _She's dangerous_ , he mused. _but doing something to her would be too conspicuous right now. I'll have to wait until after Christmas. Then, a little accident will be in order. I'll have to take her out of the equation_. However, first he had to learn more about her abilities. The real Ginny Weasley hadn't been of much help in that regard. Hadn't there been rumours about her mother having the Sight? Tom stopped the torture spell and allowed Pettigrew to recover his breath.

"I have a job for you to do."

"I'll listen and obey, my Lord."

.

 _ **A/N**_

 _The part about Luna and the Nargles is meant as an explanation why she can't simply solve everything in this story._


	16. Chapter 16 A mother's love

**A mother's love**

.

 _ **Hogwarts – corridor near the Arithmancy classroom**_

.

"Granger!"

Someone was calling out to Hermione as she was leaving the Arithmancy class. Luna and Harry were with her, as usual. While he wasn't all too talented, having some difficulties with the magical theory behind this subject and its importance for the art of spell-crafting, he was far better than most other students with the purely mathematical part, thanks to his longer mundane schooling.

"Millie?" Hermione was surprised to see the girl hulking down the corridor. Despite the girls' awkwardness around each other, they had started to call each other by their first names weeks ago. Millie calling her _Granger_ – as well as her expression – didn't bode well.

Millie clenched her fists and growled. "You have no idea how much I would like to…" She lifted her left fist. Luna calmly stepped in between the girls, which seemed to have a soothing effect. Millie breathed deeply. "Don't fear, Luna. I won't hurt her – not today."

"Have I done something stupid?" Hermione asked, thinking about what could have agitated Millie this much. "Is it about Greg?" She hadn't seen him since the dancing class. Even then they had only exchanged a few small smiles from afar. "Did something happen to him?" Hermione was now very concerned.

"He's in the Hospital Wing."

"What?" Hermione's eyes widened. "But why?"

"He had a fight with that Durmstrang bastard. Krum," Millie sneered with disdain.

"Why would he…" Hermione paled, realizing something. "He didn't…"

"He did," Millie growled, "defending your honour and all that manly bullshit." She glared at Hermione.

"It's not Hermione's fault," Luna interjected and put a hand on Millie's arm.

"I know," Millie growled, punching the wall with her free hand. "Doesn't make it any better"

"I have to go," Hermione excused herself, only to be stopped by Millie grabbing her robe.

"Don't scold him," Millie growled.

"I wouldn't…"

"You would," Millie hissed, getting nods from Luna and Harry. Hermione had the dignity to blush. "But not this time," Millie continued harshly. "Defending you is important to him, no idea why."

Hermione calmed down a bit. "Vince would do the same for you, you know..."

"I don't need a boy to fight my battles," Millie hissed, silently agreeing with Hermione's statement.

Hermione lifted a mocking eyebrow. "And you think I do?" She dared the big girl.

Millie actually grinned: "Nope." She looked thoughtful for a moment and let go of the robe. "Stupid boys!"

Hermione wholeheartedly agreed.

.

 _ **A wee bit later**_

Hermione's eyes widened again as she laid her eyes on Greg's face. He looked like he had a collision with the Hogwarts Express and lost, badly. Paul Masterson was at his side, now putting a hand on Greg's shoulder and saying his goodbye. "Don't fear, Greg. A bear is supposed to defend his own." With a curt nod towards Hermione he left the hospital, leaving two teenagers and an awkward silence behind.

Greg coughed his throat suddenly very coarse. Hermione jumped in, and grabbed a bottle of water standing on the sideboard, only to spill some of it as she tried to pour it into a goblet. Somehow her insecurity did wonders to calm Greg's nerves. He put his hand on hers and took the water away, sipping a little before leaning back into his pillow. "Thank you," he breathed.

"No, thank you," Hermione whispered, sitting down on the bed next to his.

"You're not angry?"

"I am. But not with you." Greg looked relieved.

Hermione looked thoughtful. "You heard us? At the dancing class," she asked.

Greg nodded.

"It wasn't as bad as it sounded," she tried to downplay the event.

"Yes, it was," he countered calmly. "I saw the look in your eyes when you told Parvati. You glanced towards your leg and your hand went to your face." Hermione didn't remember but it was all too possible. Despite everything she was still very self-conscious, and the scars in her face not helping. _He noticed_ , she realized.

"What was that about," she vaguely gestured towards the door where Paul had left, trying to change the subject.

Greg shrugged, flinching a little from the pain. "I feared he would be angry. You know: becoming a healer and getting into a fistfight."

"He didn't look angry."

"No, he didn't," Greg sighed relieved. "We're still okay."

.

 _ **Great Hall – evening of the same day**_

.

The students were in a bright mood when Hermione entered the Great Hall. With Christmas a mere three weeks away, most of them were discussing their plans for the break or the Yule Ball. Girls comparing notes about who would accompany whom to the ball, boys teasing the poor ones that still hadn't found their plus one. Main topic at the Gryffindor table was Ron Weasley's hilarious attempt at asking out Fleur Delacour.

"You … go … me." The Muggleborns among the audience had been reminded of a bad Tarzan movie.

Fleur had actually been quite nice in her rejection but Ron had still been floored, more so because she told him about her actual date to the ball: Bill Weasley. While not a student anymore, he had been invited as it was tradition with former Head Boys of Hogwarts. Perhaps Albus' idea of Harry meeting another Weasley played a small role as well in the decision making. He still hoped to get Harry to connect more with the redheaded family. Whatever the case, Fleur had been more than happy to say yes to Bill's invitation. He had been one the few people outside her small circle of friends showing honest concern after her injury, and even sent her a couple of letters and get-better presents.

To Hermione's joy Percy would visit the ball with Penny Clearwater, and even Charlie had been invited, the dragon handler belonging to the small team left behind to take care of the camp and the clean-up operation. Apparently, the part of the forest used for camping the dragons had suffered under their presence – surprise, surprise. She hadn't yet told Parvati, but Hermione actually had changed her mind and intended to go to the ball, if only to meet her friends and to show that she wasn't scared by the other girls' looks. Oh Merlin, did she miss Penny and their long talks in the evening.

She paused shortly and glanced around. Nobody was watching her, but that would change soon enough. As usual, Viktor was holding court at the Slytherin table. The trio of fan girls behind this whole mess were flirting with him – something he generously endured – and the boys listened to the story of one of his past brilliant Quidditch move Viktor was telling with expansive gestures. Only when Hermione walked around the Slytherin table did the group notice her. Some of them sneered and she heard a couple of nasty comments, nothing she hadn't expected. Only Millie and Vince watched her with calm interest, the girls even exchanging a small greeting nod.

"Granger," Krum greeted her with a scowl.

She reached for a jug of pumpkin juice.

"A real wonder," Draco Malfoy commented. "The Mudblood actually realized she is only good enough to serve real wizards." Most of the others ignored him. The cleverer ones already guessed what would happen, the fight between Krum and Goyle having reached their ears. The girl indeed lifted the jug only to pour the juice all over Viktor Krum. At first, the later was too stunned to react. Then he jumped up and moved to push her away, only to be stopped by her cold voice.

"Oh yes, Krum, do attack me. Attack the third-year girl. It's nothing new to you, attacking younger students, right? Certainly, you feel very proud about beating up a boy three years younger. Do you intend to tell your little sister about your heroic feat? Yes, dearie, I was three years older and four stones heavier than him but I actually managed to knock him out, if barely." Viktor's ears inflamed but he knew he couldn't lash out against the girl with the whole Hall watching.

Hermione however ignored him for the moment and addressed the trio of girls. "If you haven't noticed already, Krum only told you he would accompany me to the ball to get rid of you. He was too much of a coward to tell you to get lost. Instead he invented that cock and bull story. He never intended to ask me out." She pulled back the hair hiding her face scars. "He's too much of a hero," she sneered the word, "to been seen with a disfigured cripple." More than one girl listening to her little speech paled or blushed, as they had thought something similar about her in the past. Many others glared at Viktor Krum, none of them disbelieving her story. Even those among them who hated Granger knew that she wouldn't invent such a thing. And for once, the international Quidditch star and tournament champion didn't know how to respond.

Hermione glanced around, noticing which Slytherins agreed with her and which ones actually seemed to approve of Viktor's behaviour. It was a close call between both factions, but in her eyes it was a sign of hope that there even existed two factions. Perhaps, the house of Slytherin was better than its reputation. Without another word she turned around and left the table with as much dignity as she was able to muster, leaving behind a Viktor Krum looking like a drowned rat, and pumpkin juice still dripping to the floor. Only later did she ponder on the fact that Professor Snape had never intervened.

.

 _ **Hospital Wing – the next day - Michael**_

.

It was a long process. Waking up, opening the eyes, and realizing who he was not to speak of where he was. The white ceiling above, the soft cushion with that feeling of starch and the smell of potions was a strong giveaway. _I'm in the hospital ward_ , was Michael's first thought, and followed swiftly by another one: _I'm alive. Why am I alive_?

The last thing he remembered was a feeling of immense pain. The dragon's tail spikes had impaled him. There was a hazy memory of him being lifted into the air and the dragon… Michael shuddered. _She tried to eat me. The damned dragon actually tried to eat me. I should be dead_.

"You're awake." Michael flinched, first from surprise, then from the pain. "Be careful, now," Madam Pomfrey gushed. "Move slowly. The wound is closed but needs time to heal."

"See, told you he would wake up today," another voice interjected, the speaker invisible so far.

"I should have believed you," Madam Pomfrey admitted.

"Yes, you should have," the other voice sniffed. Michael heard small feet pattering around Madam Pomfrey. It was a house-elf; a really old house-elf, one he hadn't seen before. "Hello dearie," she greeted him.

Michael blinked. From close up he realized how ancient this house-elf looked. "Hello," he whispered his voice still a bit hoarse.

The house-elf scurried to the sideboard, far more agile than he had expected her to be. Snapping her fingers, she summoned a cup and an ancient looking bottle, pouring some of its content into the cup before offering it to Michael. "For your voice," she explained. He accepted thankfully and drank eagerly, the fruity tea doing wonders to his throat.

"Better?"

Michael nodded: "better." He put the cup down and leant back into the softness of his cushion. The small motions had already exhausted him far more than expected. "What happened?" he asked after a while. "And why am I still alive?"

Madam Pomfrey sighed and sat down on a small chair the house-elf summoned with another snap of her fingers. "It's a long story, but I think we have time. It all began when Paul Masterson asked the headmaster about the precautions…"

.

 _ **The next Day - Greg**_

"So, ready to leave?" Michael asked, feeling surprisingly sad at the prospect of Greg Goyle leaving the hospital ward. Since Michael's awakening from his magically induced sleep, Greg had been around, speaking to him like a normal boy. He treated him neither like a hero nor like a deadbeat, but simply like any other student their age. Surprisingly, Greg showed some very Gryffindorish and Hufflepuff tendencies in speech and behaviour, his Slytherin side only raising its head when telling Michael how he wished to prove himself. He wanted to be his own person, not some follower like his dad. He wanted to be known for something he accomplished and not for his brutality. And he absolutely adored his mother, the emotion palpable with every word he uttered. Michael was more than a little envious of the boy. He wished to have someone like her in his life as well and told him so.

"But you have," Greg scolded him. "I've been here for three days now and on every single one of them Madam Longbottom visited you. She may not be your birth mother but she certainly behaves like she is. You should have seen her as they brought you to the hospital." His expression turned into a teasing grin. "And Parvati was the same. Is she your girlfriend?"

"No," Michael paled.

"Why not?" Greg wondered. "She's hot. And she seems nice. Not very bright, I have to admit, otherwise she would hardly be interested in you," he teased, easily dodging Michael's slap. "You should ask her out. For the ball I mean."

"You think?" Michael asked weakly, fear-stricken at the prospect.

"Yeah," Greg looked a little sad. "At least, you can ask her. Not everybody has such a chance."

"You will get your chance as well."

Greg shrugged. "First I have to survive the next few weeks. I don't expect my parents to be excited to hear about my fight with Krum." He sighed. "Actually, my father will be more displeased with me for losing that fight."

Michael blinked. "You didn't have a chance against him from the beginning: he's three years older, and far stronger. Hell, he's Durmstrang's champion."

"Doesn't matter," Greg deadpanned. "Father will still expect me to win every fight I start. And if I can't win honourably, I should cheat... Attack him in numbers, poison him or attack from behind."

"But that's cowardly!"

"So?" Greg lifted a single eyebrow. "I'm a Slytherin, remember? My father expects me to fight like one."

"And your mum?"

"That's actually a good question. I have no idea. So far, I didn't get a letter or howler. But I have the feeling that will change very soon." He looked a little pale at the prospect.

.

 _ **A few hours later - Parvati**_

Parvati was a girl on a mission. She had visited Michael twice already, the first time bringing along Hedwig. Both times her friends had been with her, but not today. She knew that Greg had been released, having seen him at Lunch. So, her friend would be alone, hopefully. The Indian beauty rubbed her hands. She was surprisingly anxious. In a few days, Madam Malkin's assistant would deliver her dress. The Patil sisters had chosen similar outfits with only a variation in colours. Both were based on Indian saris as the girls were quite proud of their Indian heritage, despite the racism they had to endure both at home and among their schoolmates. Padma already had a partner for the ball, but kept mum about his identity. Now Parvati had to get hers, and she intended to do that exactly right now. Parvati stopped in front of the door and drew a deep breath.

" _You have to ask him," Harry had told her. "Michael really likes you, but he'll never ask you out himself. He thinks he isn't worthy to go with you. I don't expect this to change after the first task and how it ended."_

She took another breath and tossed the door opened, paling a little as it slammed into the wall. Michael looked up from his bed, slightly shocked by her entrance. Luckily, Madam Pomfrey didn't come running. Excessively careful she closed the door and stepped to Michael's bed, greeting him with a shy "hi Michael."

"Hi," he coughed. "Hi Parvati."

The girl looked around for a seating place. Feeling a little bold, Michael patted on the mattress at his side. Parvati's eyes widened a little and she blushed but complied. "You're… looking better."

"I feel better." And he really did. Michael had no idea what kind of medicine he got both from Madam Pomfrey and that ancient house-elf calling herself Granny, but he was feeling better by the hour.

"Did Madam Pomfrey say something about your release?"

"Next week," Michael responded. "I'll have to be careful after that for a while, but at least I will be home for Christmas." He stumbled over his words as realization hit that perhaps he didn't have a home anymore.

Parvati frowned, guessing what he was thinking about. "Have any of the Weasleys visited you already?"

Michael nodded. "Percy and Charlie have been here, and I got letters from Arthur and Bill."

"And Ginny?" Like Luna she didn't like the Weasley girl all that much, but her reasons were a little different.

"She was here shortly, yes."

Parvati nervously kneaded her fingers. "Are you still interested in her?"

Her nervousness did wonders to Michael. Perhaps Greg had been right. "I never was interested in her, not in that way. She is my sister. But she wants to help me find out about my real family."

Parvati looked relieved by that news. Now she only had to muster her Gryffindor courage.

"I wanted to ask you something." Both said at the same time.

"You first." Parvati and Michael gushed, both blushing a little. For a moment, both teenagers didn't say a word. Then, before losing his nerves again, Michael mumbled. "Will you go to the ball with me?"

Parvati blinked but didn't respond, her brain working in overdrive. _Has he really just asked me out?_ She absolutely hadn't expected that to happen. The girl had no idea how much her silence was grating on his nerves.

 _Have I done something stupid? Merlin, she's going to say no. She'll stop being my friend_. He gulped. "Sorry, I didn't mean to…"

His rambling was stopped by Parvati who put a finger on his lips. "I would be delighted to accompany you to the ball, Mister Bain." She bent forward and put a small kiss on his cheek. He blushed like it was inflamed.

"You would?" He grinned madly. Parvati nodded. "Yeah!" He yelled and raised his hands in the air. The reaction had been a little hasty and he hissed from the pain.

"Careful," Parvati scolded him. "I need my dancing partner intact for the ball."

"I'll be a good little patient, I promise."

.

 _ **The golden Egg – Luna**_

Michael looked up from the notes and put them onto his lap, his expression thoughtful. There were a couple of drawings of the golden egg, a word by word listing of the song – both in Mermish and English – as well as a couple of pages about how Harry and his friends had interpreted the hint.

"Jenny assumes," Luna said with a soft but serious voice, "that it will be a person and not an object hidden under the water. We found a couple of spells that can be used to protect a person against suffocation and the cold, most of them by putting the person into some kind of sleep or stasis."

" _The thing I would miss the most_ ," Michael mumbled and nodded. He could see that.

Luna gave him a hard slap on the head. "Don't even dare to think about it."

"Think about what?" Michael pretended not to know what Luna was speaking about.

"Thinking about dissing Parvati to protect her; she wouldn't want that." Luna narrowed her eyes. "And it would be disrespectful to her. They won't force her," Luna wasn't certain about that part but decided not to tell. "It should be her decision."

"But what if I fail? Again?"

"You won't," Luna was certain about that. "We have enough time for training. Jenny and Harry already are accomplished swimmers. They'll teach you. And me as well." Luna smiled happily. She liked the idea, having noticed the glances Harry had sent her way at the Prefects' bath.

" _You have one hour_." Michael grimaced. "One hour under water; we'll need something…" He looked thoughtful like he tried to remember something.

"Apparently there is this spell – bubblehead. Cedric suggested it. Hermione thinks it is a bit complicated to learn and practise, but doable as a backup. Apparently, the effect is too vulnerable if you get attacked."

"Hopefully the Giant Squid will leave me alone down there," Michael half-joked.

"The Giant Squid certainly will, but what about the Mermen and the Grindylows?" Luna asked with no small concern. She had been reading about the Grindylows and their hate for all creatures of Air and Fire. She intended to warn Fleur Delacour about them.

"You think the Grindylows would attack me?" Michael asked, hoping the Headmaster would address the Mermen matter in time.

"It is possible," Luna nodded. "They're very territorial and often attack in numbers."

Now Michael was concerned as well. While he had a broad knowledge of plants, he trusted Luna to know her magical creatures. But plants… plants… there was something there. "Could you get me a number of books from the library," he asked. "I have an idea about how to survive under water, but I have to look something up first."

"Yes, of course; if you promise me to behave and not to overtax yourself. Parvati wouldn't be happy to lose her dancing partner."

Michael groaned. "She told you?"

"She didn't have to," Luna grinned. "Her smile was broad enough when she returned from her visit."

"Was it as broad as your when Harry asked you?" He hesitated. "Harry asked you, right?"

Luna patted his hand. "He did." _Right before Hermione had her big-sister talk with him about appropriate behaviour_.

.

"Alright," Michael summarized a bit later. "I have to look up Gillyweed and Harry will have to owl-order it. Or we can buy it over the Christmas break. For backup we will try to learn that bubblehead charm. I also have to learn swimming and diving. And, if possible, practise in the lake." He frowned. "I'll need some kind of warming charm for that part. Anything else?"

"Some area attack-spell to get rid of Grindylows and the Mermish spell charm Cedric mentioned. And Hermione brought up the idea of learning how to wordlessly cast an unlocking charm and a severing charm, should the person somehow be restrained or bound to a weight to keep them down."

Michael sighed. That was a lot. Luckily, because of Harry and his groundwork, he had two months to get everything down. "You're really sure about this being a hostage task, aren't you?"

For once Luna looked quite unhappy and not the least bit dreamy. "We have no doubt about it."

"Stupid Ministry."

.

 _ **Decision – Michael**_

Michael had adoration but also longing in his eyes as he handled the cup – Helga Hufflepuff's Cup. Granny would take it away after this conversation but for now, he was holding it. He smiled at how she had had denied Headmaster Dumbledore the same honour. Luckily, the Ministry didn't know about any of this. He had no doubt that Fudge or his lapdog Umbridge would have tried something as well to get their paws on the priceless artefact. Looking up, he glanced around. He was hardly alone and all of them were waiting for his reaction. Besides his friends and Granny, there were Madam Pomfrey, Madam Sprout, Professor McGonagall and Paul Masterson, the last one mostly to keep order and prevent any infighting from disturbing Michael's recovery.

"It looks…" He hesitated. Michael wanted to say normal but that wasn't right. It was old. Everybody could see and feel it. The materials used were precious but not overly so; ornamented but not in an overloaded kind. Still, his main impression was one of homeliness. This cup belonged to a warm home, spreading a feeling of being welcome and safe. When he closed his eyes, it felt cosy and warm like a place in a kitchen in winter. He could hardly believe that Madam Pomfrey had been allowed to use it for his healing. He looked up and sent Granny a thankful smile. "Thank you," he said and offered her the cup. She accepted it with a small smile of her own, her small, leathery-skinned hands putting it at her side.

"Have you decided already?" Granny asked, her eyes telling him that she already knew the answer and only asked for the others' comfort. None of them, not even Professor McGonagall, had been willing to force a decision. His eyes resting on her for a moment, he thought about the change he had noticed in her behaviour. She seemed calmer, more silent than before and more prone to thinking before speaking, often accompanied by a sad expression. Had he decided? Did he want to get resorted? Most of his friends had been convinced he should at least try it, believing that he was as much a Hufflepuff as a Gryffindor. Only Luna had been her usual weird self and stated:

"You're neither. Or both. But mostly you're Michael. Or not. In any case you're you. Most of the time at least. You would look better in Hufflepuff yellow. But kissing is simpler when the girl is in the same house." Parvati and Michael had blushed deeply at that last comment.

Ginny had said something similar, something about the house only changing the robe and that he should first decide about what kind of boy would be filling that robe. He had the feeling she wanted him to stay in Gryffindor, close to her.

"I'll stay with House Gryffindor," he declared calmly. His friends were relieved, while Madam Sprout and Pomfrey looked disappointed. Professor McGonagall seemed to understand that it had more to do with his friends than the house itself, and accepted it with dignity. "I'll inform the headmaster promptly."

Michael wondered whether the headmaster would be happy about his decision. Parvati definitely was, and Michael decided that her smile was more important to him than any and all thoughts of one Headmaster Dumbledore.

.

 _ **Heritage – Ginny**_

"I know it's not because of me," Ginny said with a teasing smirk on her lips. "But I'm happy you'll stay with us lions." Tom had been relieved that neither Jenny nor Luna had been present as he entered the hospital. With Michael recovering from his ordeal and the boy not being in mortal danger anymore, the girls had reverted to their former hostile behaviour. He was certain they only endured the presence of his host body because of Michael's wishes. It was a bit exhausting to play nice with them, but if he played his cards right, this would end soon enough and the expected result would certainly be worth the effort.

It was hard not to flinch as Michael patted Ginny's hand in brotherly affection. "I would never leave you alone with _the prat_." The prat being Ronald. In Tom's eyes _her_ youngest brother was a pathetic worm without character or talent. He noticed the sadness in Michael's voice. Despite his words, despite Ron's actions since the part-truth come out, the boy obviously still missed his former brother. _In his own way, Michael is as pathetic as Ron_ , Tom mused.

"I noticed that Madam Longbottom visited you again."

"Yes," Michael smiled, Ron's betrayal forgotten for the moment. "She visits me twice a day, at least. Actually, I feel a bit guilty about occupying so much of her time."

"Don't, simply don't," Ginny ruled firmly. "She obviously likes to spend time with you and she is certainly old enough to make her own decisions." Tom stated, despite how ridiculous it was in his eyes to spend such an amount of time with a boy as weak as Michael without a very good reason. But perhaps she had one. Ginny's face turned into a slightly evil smirk. "And isn't it nice to see Headmaster Dumbledore going barmy about it?"

Michael reciprocated the smirk with a more thoughtful smile of his own. "He really doesn't like seeing her around me."

"No, he doesn't," Ginny looked thoughtful. "I wonder why…"

Michael shrugged. "He never explained. I would have expected him to be happy, getting rid of me and all that. I mean, he is hardly taking any interest in my life anymore." Another hint of sadness; it was slowly grating on Tom's nerves.

"Anything else of notice? Anything interesting about your magic perhaps? Something that could help us, give us a hint about inherited family magic?" His lack of talent at flying and his interest in herbs and plants hadn't been all that helpful.

Michael sighed. "Nothing I noticed. Even Luna was only able to identify my connection to James Potter, the false one." He looked angry for a moment, before his expression changed again. "Wait! Luna said I still have a mother. She couldn't say who it is, but she believes my mother is still alive."

Luckily, Michael was too distracted by the thought to notice Ginny's shudder. Luna and her strange abilities were creeping Tom out. "That's some progress at least. Anything else?" Tom looked around, his eyes focussing on the wand.

"You have a different wand..." He had nearly forgotten about that.

"Yes, the Headmaster wanted Harry to have my old one." Ginny narrowed her eyes. Yes, Michael's old wand, the one that was the twin of Tom's wand. It had been a shock to see it in the hand of the boy-who-lived – well the boy-who-pretended-to-live.

"I haven't seen Harry use it," Ginny commented.

"No, he got another one as well. Apparently, my old wand is an _adequate match_ , as Mister Ollivander called it. He can use it, but others are better. So, he got a second one that suits him better." _When he is using a wand at all_ , Michael mused.

"That's not fair." Tom certainly agreed for once with Dumbledore that the twin of his wand didn't belong into the hands of this dunderhead Michael but he had to play nice.

Michael shrugged. "No, it isn't. But I won't complain. I never liked that wand. It was like pushing my magic through a drinking straw. I was happy to get rid of it." Ginny's face darkened in anger and she looked down for a moment. "Have I ever told you about how I once used Madam Longbottom's wand?"

Ginny looked up, suddenly very interested. Perhaps this visit wasn't a complete squander. "No, do tell."

"It happened last year. I was working in the greenhouse with Madam Longbottom…"

.

 _ **Office of Severus Snape**_

.

"Please come in, Mrs Goyle."

Severus stepped aside to allow his guest to enter. He felt a deep respect for the huge woman. Not only had she been able to compensate for her lack of magical talent with an amount of determination, stubbornness and diligence worthy of a Hufflepuff, but she had instilled those traits into her son as well despite the father's influence. Both were down-to-earth, decent and modest. Despite her flaws, and Abigail had a number of those, she deserved a better man at her side than that drunken coward Goyle Sr. Alas, it wasn't meant to be. Her parents only saw the lack of grace and beauty in their daughter and accepted the first offer from a pureblood with a bit of coin in his vault. They would have been shocked discovering what had become of their obedient daughter. Yes, she had a Hufflepuff side, but still was a Slytherin at heart. She had ambition and could be quite ruthless, only she used both traits to further her son's future. No one was allowed to endanger him and Severus shuddered at the memory of the talk he had with Abigail Goyle after Greg's second year.

"I assume Greg is still doing well in school… apart from this shoddy business," she asked after sitting down and accepting a cup of tea. The chair creaked a little under her weight, but Severus knew it was out of muscles, not fat. Abigail had a strong body and even stronger muscles, both attributes shared by her son. Like Greg she seemed to like physical training, something very unusual for a pureblood lady. There had been rumours of her knocking sense into her husband's thick skull with her bare fists and he hadn't doubted it for one second.

"Quite," Severus nodded. "He continues with his study group and his grades are acceptable, even more than acceptable in some subjects." He had watched the start of that group with a little concern, mainly because of the presence of a couple of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. In the beginning, there had been more than a few students mistrusting Greg's intentions, but former head girl Penelope Clearwater had put her foot down and convinced them to give Greg a chance. His grades still weren't spectacular, but while they had been mostly "P" at the end of his first year, he had turned into a solid "A" student with a couple of "EE". Millicent Bulstrode was about the same and even Vincent Crabbe was improving, more so since Bulstrode became his girlfriend. Luckily, they kept their PDA to a minimum.

"And this nonsense about foreign magic?" Abigail was uncertain what to think of it. The letters of her son had been… hopeful. They had been quite different to most of his letters in her past. On the other hand, barely six weeks spent with that foreigner were hardly enough to align his future after some idea that could be simple silliness.

"Mister Masterson is a very accomplished healer. He has a bunch of quite unusual abilities. According to Madam Pomfrey, he is on par with some of the best healers." She had been gushing in her praise, a rare experience certainly. "More importantly: while Greg still has troubles with wand magic and will – as you are certainly aware of – never be a great Wizard in the traditional sense, he has apparently shown a far greater talent at Shamanistic Magic, especially in the healing arts. Perhaps you should speak with Mister Masterson about this. I expect such a conversation to be enlightening."

"I'll do that." She looked thoughtful. Her ambitions had always ended with ensuring her son a future that hadn't the words _Death Eater_ and _Malfoy's lackey_ written all over them. A mid-level career at the Ministry or a small shop in Diagon Alley; perhaps something with sports or animals, as both were things Greg had been interested in his whole life. Nothing grand, but something that ensured him an adequate lifestyle and would make him happy. That he would turn to the healing arts was a complete surprise. Hopefully, this wasn't only about _that_ girl. She was neither blind nor deaf and knew of his affection, but it was hardly healthy to build a life around another person, irrespective of how much you liked them.

She narrowed her eyes and put her cup down. "He got into this fight because of _that girl_ , right?"

Severus folded his hands and looked thoughtful. "In a way, yes; but mostly he got into that fight because he is a very honourable young man willing to defend others, be it their life, health or honour. Viktor Krum is a very talented young man. Regretfully, he is fully aware of this. Pride is rarely a welcome trait. He lied about Miss Granger, got her into troubles, and ridiculed her because of her scars."

Abigail's jaws clenched. She knew a thing or two about getting ridiculed because of her appearance. Millicent as well as she knew from her conversations with the girl and simply watching her at Slytherin gatherings. "The scars she got from that troll incident three years ago?" Severus nodded. Abigail's face darkened. Greg had told her all about it, especially about his sense of guilt at not helping her, and how she had forgiven him. There weren't many secrets between Abigail and her son, and she hadn't the slightest urge to see this change. Abigail knew that she had to make a difficult decision, a decision that would influence her son's life and how their relation would be in the future.

"I want to speak with Mister Masterson," she stated calmly. "And after that I want to speak with my son – and Miss Granger."

Severus lifted a single eyebrow, but nodded after a moment of contemplation. "It will be arranged."

.

Severus watched the students enter the great hall for dinner a few hours later. The conversation with Mrs Goyle had been exhausting. He told her all the measly details of Greg's fight with Viktor Krum, how seriously he had been injured by the older boy and about the detention he would have to serve – fifty hours starting after the Christmas break.

"I expect him to serve the detention with Mister Masterson," Abigail Goyle had stated after her conversation with the shaman. Something had changed in her, something that got her thoughtful enough to delay the conversation with her son and Miss Granger for a few days. Severus didn't know why but he complied with her wishes. With Masterson overseeing the detention it could transform into a number of remedy lessons. Did he actually hope for Goyle to leave behind all of this, to have a different future waiting for him than the one young Severus Snape had to accept two decades ago? It was an unwelcome question, one he didn't want to think about for too long.

She had been interested in the girl's reaction as well. While a good actor, Abigail Goyle hadn't been able to fully hide her smirk as he told her about the juice attack. Still, he wasn't certain if she intended to kill the girl out of hand or invite her for tea. Perhaps Abigail Goyle didn't know either.

Severus saw the boys enter, with Vince and Greg flanking Millie. All three had been outdoors apparently, enjoying the first snow. Greg stuffed scarf and mittens into his pockets while telling something funny to his friends. Greg looked up, sensing the dark eyes of his house head resting on him. He felt the scarf burn in his pocket, the same scarf and mittens he got two months ago on his fifteenth birthday, from nobody else than Hermione. Did Professor Snape know about them? Or about the small secret woven into the mittens? If they were turned inside out, the Futhark runes Mannaz and Laguz became visible. _Mannaz_ had the meaning of humaneness and tolerance but also friendship, while _Laguz_ stood for vitality and perseverance as well as for trial. He liked them, liked their meaning and especially that Hermione had hand-knitted them for him.

Shortly he wondered if his parents had already spoken about him with Professor Snape. Certainly, he would have heard about it, so perhaps not. Shrugging, he turned around and concentrated on his friends. It was good to be out of the hospital ward.

.

 _ **Gryffindor Girls' Dorm – early night**_

.

Tom glared at the map wishing, not for the first time, he knew how exactly it worked. Regretfully, not even Sirius Black – the real Sirius – had been able to solve that riddle. Remus Lupin had been the one calculating the necessary Arithmancy for the map and doing the main spell work.

Tom sighed and closed Ginny's eyes. It was nearly funny how this incredible piece of magic got in his possession. The Twins apparently had found it years ago in Filch's office. Later, their whole life savings burned at the Quidditch Cup because of Bagman's frauds, they had _graciously_ offered the map to _Sirius Black_ , officially because he was one of the four Marauders, a fact they learned first-hand at Harry's birthday party when Sirius – back then the real Sirius – had entertained the Harry-pretender with stories of his supposed father's youth. They had discovered his Padfoot nickname and offered the map to him, unaware that they were speaking to the now poly-juiced Peter Pettigrew. Luckily, Pettigrew had shown initiative and bought the map for the steep price of 200 galleons. The map was certainly worth it. If only he knew how it worked.

Tom's eyes went to the charted boys' dorm again: Seamus, Dean, Ron, Harry and Michael. All five boys were visible on the map, but the depiction of their names differed. While the names of Seamus, Dean and Ron were very clear and exact – both first and last name – it was not the same with the last two ones. Harry's first name stayed the same, but his last name seemed to change every few seconds, be it into Potter, Evans, Howell or some combination of those names. And Michael Bain's name remained kind of blurred. Regretfully, he had never been able to take a look onto the map before Halloween, so he had no idea if the boy had been depicted as Harry Potter before that fateful day.

What did this mean? Obviously, the map wasn't all-knowing. Tom guessed it worked around the knowledge both of the person depicted and those around him. His own name was changing between Ginny Weasley and Tom Riddle. He assumed it had been different when the map had been in the Twins' hand. They didn't know about the possession so they _knew_ him to be their baby sister and the map showed that information to them. Only in Tom's hands – and perhaps in Pettigrew's – did it depict the truth. Harry's last name changed because the castle's inhabitants disagreed on the validity of his adoption. And with Michael it was equally difficult, with many people did not fully believe his new identity.

 _Perhaps I can get the headmaster to put his hands on the map and read over his shoulder_ , Tom smirked, knowing how impossible this would be.

No, the map wouldn't solve the riddle. It only proved – again – that Michael Bain wasn't the boy's real name. Still it had been helpful already, as it confirmed Pettigrew's suspicion about the real identity of one Barty Crouch. But that conversation would be for another day.

Now, he had to find a way to prove his suspicion. Was it even possible? Could Michael Bain be Neville Longbottom? Officially, the boy had been killed the night his parents had been tortured into insanity. But was this a proven fact or only rumours? And why would Dumbledore choose that boy? It made no sense so far. He needed more information. He needed to talk with Black about it. Perhaps his prisoner knew something young Tom didn't, something his older self had known. Also he needed to learn more about the night Neville Longbottom died. Tom grinned. Certainly, nobody would reject a request from Lord Black to have a look at the site report.

 _I'll get you, Albus. Before the school year ends your political career and your precious reputation will be in shambles, have no doubt about it._

.

 _ **Ministry of Magic – DMLE – a few days later**_

.

"It is very forthcoming of you to meet me on such a short notice. You have my thanks."

Madam Umbridge simpered at his friendly words and gestured for Sirius Black to take a seat. "Think nothing of it, Lord Black. You're a friend of the Minister and his friends are my friends."

"Friendship is important," Sirius Black nodded. He felt filthy because of the way Umbridge's eyes rested on him, but he had to do this. Madam Umbridge was the fastest way to get into contact with the right people at the DMLE. His Master wanted results, now.

"How may I be of assistance, Lord Black?"

"This is about the attack on the Longbottoms and the death of Augusta's grandson Neville Longbottom."

"Oh?" Umbridge was confused. That happened years ago, how could this be of any importance today?

"This is a very delicate matter," Sirius whispered in a conspirational way. "Under no circumstances can the information be allowed to leak out and get into the wrong hands. I trust you understand the difficulty of the situation."

"Certainly, my lips are closed," she made a zipping motion.

"I knew I went to the right person." She giggled and Sirius tried not to flinch. "As I said, this is a delicate matter. With a few friends of mine, we came to the understanding that something is wrong about the official depiction of that night's events."

"Lord Black, the Ministry would never…" Sirius stopped her calmly and sighed.

"It's not the Ministry I'm concerned about. Or perhaps," he continued looking thoughtful. "It is exactly the Ministry I'm concerned about. We fear that someone messed with the file, someone important enough to convince even Aurors and officials to do this, someone who had been a danger for our esteemed Minister for years."

Umbridge eyes widened. "Dumble…"

Sirius stopped her again. "We currently have no proof but that's exactly what we fear. If he was hiding the truth back then, we have to know why, and how."

If Lord Black was right about this, it could easily help her to get rid of Dumbledore or at least besmirch his reputation. And if he was wrong, it couldn't hurt her. "I'll help you, have no fear."

.

"She is a friend, has been for a long time along with her husband," Sirius Black explained, showing true sadness in his face. In the beginning Peter had felt quite uncomfortable at the idea of entering the DMLE under Polyjuice, but now his adrenalin was racing and he had to suppress a cackling laughter, with the Aurors and Officials jumping around in their eagerness to help the almighty Lord Sirius Black, rising star of the Wizengamot and good friend of Madam Umbridge. Even those who weren't impressed by his importance tried to help him nonetheless to avoid raising suspicions about any "hard feelings" between the DMLE and the House of Black. "She's still… struggling… with the death of her only child."

John Dawlish nodded gravely. He had been one of the junior Aurors present at the little cottage the Longbottoms had used for hiding. "We'll do everything in our power to help her. Frank was a comrade of ours. It truly is a sin what happened to him and his family."

"It was an atrocity," Black confirmed. "Perhaps this will help her get some closure," he waved the file he just got from Dawlish. It was against the regulations but this was different. Certainly, it would hurt nobody if a trusted friend of the family was allowed to take a look. The murder happened more than a decade ago; the murderer was well-known and had already died in Azkaban.

"At least, the murderer is dead as well," Dawlish tried to be helpful.

"He is?" Pettigrew narrowed his eyes. His master wouldn't like this. Knowing him, his master certainly intended to question the culprit about that night as well.

Dawlish nodded and bent forward in a conspirational way: "Barty Crouch Jr, he was the one." He flipped through the file and pointed towards something. "He killed the boy. Chief Warlock Dumbledore examined his wand and interrogated him himself."

"He did, did he?" Both the identity of the supposedly dead culprit and the part about Dumbledore were of high interest. "He was there that night?"

"He was," Dawlish confirmed. "There was a standing order to notice Dumbledore should something happen to the Longbottoms. It hadn't been revoked after the Potters' death, so my superior immediately called him in when we learned about the attack. Dumbledore even searched the house himself and found the boy's corpse." This was getting better and better with every moment.

"You have been of great assistance. The House of Black won't forget your loyalty."

The idiot showed a simpering smile, one that Pettigrew reciprocated. He couldn't wait to tell his master.

.

 _ **Office of Severus Snape**_

.

"What are you doing here?" Greg hissed as he reached the door and realized who was waiting there already.

Hermione flinched, her eyes widening. She glanced around and stuttered: "Pro… Professor Snape… he called me."

"You too?" He blinked. This didn't bode well, "any idea why?"

Hermione shrugged. "No idea, nothing exceptional happened since…"

Greg grinned: "The attack of the jumping juice jug?"

Hermione rolled her eyes but showed a small smile as well. "Yeah, that." She turned serious again. "He deserved it."

"He deserved far more," Greg growled, adding quietly a heartfelt: "Thank you."

"No, I thank you," Hermione responded shyly. She hesitated for a second before she moved forward and hugged him. She had missed him, missed to speak and hug him, and missed the chance to have him being her friend without having to hide it. Naturally, Murphy's Law stroke again and in exact that moment Professor Snape chose to open the door. His wards had alarmed him of the teenagers' presence and he wasn't a very patient man. So he and his guest found themselves face to face with two hugging teenagers.

"Mother?" Greg went deathly pale. Hastily he glanced around, searching.

"Your father is not around. He had an… accident."

"Nothing serious I hope?" There was a hint of concern in his voice, but the relief about his father's absence was plain.

"He'll live," Abigail Goyle soothed her son. "But he and his clumsiness aren't the reason for my presence today." She turned around and glared at Hermione. "That would be you, young lady." Now it was Hermione's part to turn deathly pale.

"Please enter, Miss Granger, and close the door behind you," Professor Snape ordered. Hermione complied, her heart racing and her mind filled with pictures and ideas about all the grizzly ways to get rid of her corpse after Greg's mother was through with her.

 _Why, in Merlin's name, did she ever leave her bed this morning?_

.

Abigail Goyle didn't utter a single word for a very long time. She and Professor Snape were sitting on one side of the room, Greg and Hermione occupying two of the chairs on the other side. They looked at each other, the adults trying to cower the teenagers with their glares as they stared back, trying not to flinch. Greg felt a little depressed. While he didn't expect his mother to be dangerous for Hermione, he feared her decision. He feared she would order him to keep away from her. Hermione on the other hand, initially nervous, slowly felt her hackles rising. Why couldn't she be allowed to be friends with Greg? Why had the house to be a deciding factor? That wasn't right. Her eyes hardened. She didn't notice the faintest smile on Professor Snape's lips, the experienced man knowing her next move before she even did.

With a huff Hermione stood up, grabbed her chair and pushed it towards Greg's chair before sitting back down, her glare daring his mother to object to Hermione's closeness to her precious boy. Hermione didn't see Greg's smile – a smile that was mimicked by a smaller one of Abigail Goyle – but felt his fleshy hand grabbing her smaller one.

"You still want to leave Great Britain at the end of the year?" Abigail suddenly asked her son, her voice like crushing ice.

The boy gulped, for a second looking like a hare in front of a snake – a very hungry and angry snake with the hare being trapped by a sling. "Yes," he answered hoarsely.

"Mister Masterson told me you want to learn his creepy kind of magic."

"It's not creepy," Hermione hissed. Abigail's eyes narrowed at the interruption and Severus sighed but Hermione was on the rise. "It's a different branch, one I have no talent in," she sighed sadly. "Humans fear what they don't know, what is strange. But shamanistic magic is far more benevolent than our _civilized_ branch of magic."

Abigail blinked once but didn't further react to Hermione's interjection. Instead she asked her son: "the reason for this decision is this girl I suppose."

Hermione's eyes widened and she turned towards Greg, relaxing a little as he replied: "Hermione was the trigger for my initial conversation with Mister Masterson, yes." He stopped his mother's response with a raise of his hand. "But, since then I learned so much, about myself and my talents." He breathed deeply. "You know mother how hard it is for me to learn the magic taught at Hogwarts. Even the blonde ponce is better at it." Hermione smiled and surprisingly so did Professor Snape. "But shamanistic magic is different. I can feel it in my chest, feel the magic growing and flowing through my body. Paul told me that I've a real talent at this. In his lessons, I'm not the near Squib, struggling to get an A in his exams. And I learned that I really want this, to help others with my magic. I was there when Mister Masterson healed that French champion. We went to the Forbidden Forest, a couple of Centaurs watching us. The meadow was filled with magic, the magic of blooming life. The girl was in pain, her mother and sister feeling what she did. And we were able to help her. We took away the pain, healed the burns, and got her back her beauty and the use of her leg. In that moment I felt really happy. I want to feel that again."

Abigail Goyle hadn't expected this. Paul Masterson had said something similar, but hearing these passionate words from her usually so taciturn son was quite an experience, one she liked. She couldn't remember him to speak this long in one go and with such a passion. "I feared you only wanted this because of her. That wouldn't be right. You don't know if you will still be friends in ten years or twenty. You have to choose your path for your own. But you realize that your father won't be happy about it? It is even possible that he'll think about disowning you."

Hermione gasped. She had feared something like that but hearing it from Greg's mother was still heart-breaking. Greg took it calmly, obviously not surprised by the statement. "I know. Will you disown me as well?" He asked fearfully.

Greg flinched back as his mother rose to her full height, looking quite angry. She stepped forward, only to be stopped by Hermione blocking her path. Abigail narrowed her eyes but only pushed her aside with gentle force, the girl being no match for the hulking woman's strength; strength her son felt quite well as she slapped him. "Never," she growled darkly, "never again ask me something this stupid. I will never disown you. You hear me? NEVER!" She pulled him into a bone-crushing hug, one that made those of Hermione feel like a gentle breeze. "Sorry," Greg mumbled into her ample chest, "was a stupid question." Severus felt the urge to throw up at the cosy scene.

"That it was," Abigail growled and pushed him back onto his chair before returning to hers and addressing the teary-eyed girl at Greg's side. "What do you intend to do at the end of the year?"

"It's not decided yet." Nobody knew about this, not even Luna. "My sister got an invitation from Mister Masterson as well."

Abigail frowned. She hadn't known about another Granger at Hogwarts.

"I assume you speak of Miss Lovegood," Professor Snape interjected.

Hermione nodded. "I expect her to accept the invitation, both because of the opportunity and because of…" She hesitated.

Severus sighed. "Say it: because of Mister Po… Mister Howell."

"Yes, that," Hermione sighed. "I ponder going with her. Apparently, there is a smaller sister college for wand magic in range, with a couple of shared classes even."

Abigail narrowed her eyes, looking thoughtful. Greg was grinning madly at Hermione's revelation. She had no doubt how this would influence his decision. "Mister Potter will leave the country as well?" Hermione nodded without correcting the use of the wrong last name. "And your… sister… she is his girlfriend?"

"Not currently," Hermione responded calmly. "But it is only a matter of time. He already invited her to the ball." She smiled softly, having absolutely no doubt about it. In time she had accepted the truth, the inevitability of this couple.

"Ah, yes, the ball," Abigail stared thoughtful at her son. Greg paled a little again. "Have you asked her out?" She nodded towards Miss Granger.

"No," Greg shook his head. "I thought it might not be… sensible."

"But you would like to ask her." Abigail, like every good mother, loved to see her son squirm from time to time. He looked like a doe caught into a Lumos spell and stared straight ahead, not even glancing towards Hermione.

"Yes, I would." Hermione was unable to suppress the broadest smile, only to come crushing down the next moment.

Abigail's voice turned incredible soft now. "You know that isn't possible."

Greg nodded defeatedly. For a second he had hoped for a way out, but even his mother's support had its limits.

"Asking her out," Professor Snape remarked sharply, "would endanger Miss Granger and her family." The teenagers' eyes widened, and Abigail nodded gravely.

"You know the men your father is friends with, Greg," Abigail continued. "They hate Muggleborn. Your father would see it as an affront to his honour, a besmirching of the precious Goyle line." She rolled her eyes. "You know how prone he is to overreacting, especially when he is in Malfoy's company. Perhaps, this will change in time. More and more of your father's friends desert Malfoy and are following Lord Black now." Severus hissed but Abigail ignored it. "The world is changing but this won't help you if your father decides to avenge his house with a surprise Christmas visit to Miss Granger's family."

The teenagers went deathly pale and Hermione trembled. Greg put an arm around her shoulders. "You think he would do that?"

"It is a possibility we can't ignore. We have to be very clever about this, Greg."

"Alright, what shall we do?" He trusted his mother to find a way. She simply had to.

She was silent for a while, gathering her thoughts. "Have no doubt that your father will fight this, your decision to learn foreign magic. For now, I will tell him nothing about it. You won't return home this Christmas. You're not the best of actors and he would guess that something is wrong. We'll have to organize something different for you, the same counts for Easter break. Mister Masterson told me that fifteen was the age of magical self-determination in his country. That's alright for your stay over there, but this means you'll have to stay away from Great Britain until you turn seventeen, else he'll use English law to enforce your stay. I hope that in time, I will be able to knock some sense into the thick head of that father of yours, with you being the sole heir of House Goyle. But don't count on it." Greg could only nod, being completely overwhelmed by the development of things.

"Let me make myself perfectly clear, Greg: I will only allow this to happen on two conditions: First, you'll use the time until the end of this school year to spend as much time as possible with Mister Masterson. I want you to be absolutely sure about your decision. Next Easter, I'll meet with you and Mister Masterson again and you'll have to make a decision. That will leave us with enough time to prepare everything. Second, if you decide to follow Mister Masterson, you'll stay away from Great Britain until you turn seventeen. And you will stay away from Great Britain even longer should Malfoy continue with that stupidity he is trying to drag in your dunderhead of a father. Have no doubt, son, that I love you. But should you ever take the mark, for any reason, you won't like my reaction." She turned on her death glare. "I've seen what taking the mark did to your father. It killed everything that would have allowed to if not love then at least like and respect him. It would crush your soul. I'll never allow it and I would sooner kill you myself than watch it happen."

Greg gulped. Nobody noticed the very thoughtful look of Severus Snape. Would his life have been different with someone fighting for him like this, caring for him like Greg's mother did for her son?

"Do you understand and accept my conditions?"

"Yes, Mum," Greg responded calmly, without hesitation.

"Then it's decided," Abigail Goyle finished the discussion, despite the feeling of sadness in her heart. Seeing into the eyes of both teenagers, she had no doubt about Greg's decision coming summer.

 _A storm is coming_. She could feel it in her bones. _And I'll be there for him – forever_.


	17. Chapter 17 The Yuleball

_**The Yuleball**_

.

 _ **Shack of Paul and Jenny**_

.

Despite the harsh weather, Paul and Jenny's home was as cosy as ever. The Shaman had done wonders with the formerly so simple and quite draughty shack. The wooden floor was smooth and hand-warm as if it possessed some kind of underfloor heating. A smokeless fire was providing light and warmth, and a couple of ever-burning candles spread a festive atmosphere all around. Harry and Luna were occupying a small sofa, a gift from Michiko and one of the few Japan-style pieces of furniture present. Luna was enjoying a cup of hot chocolate, complete with cream and mini marshmallows, the result sweet enough to make the others shudder and their teeth hurt. Harry preferred his usual herb tea, using a wooden cup he crafted and enchanted himself to keep the content warm for hours. He was enjoying the feeling of Luna's head resting against his shoulder.

.

Harry was deep in thoughts about a conversation he had with Hermione only days after the dancing class. The friends had been troubled about Luna's reaction to Sirius Black and what it meant.

"The Nargles obviously assumed Black to be a danger to her," Hermione had meant. "They allowed Luna to realize that fact but not the reason. But I can't imagine why he should be a danger to you – or her. He seems to have his own plans and perhaps he intends to interfere with your living arrangements, but that wouldn't constitute a grave danger."

"I concur," Harry nodded gravely. "He is – or was – my godfather." As Harry had expected, this had been changed promptly, with Remus revoking the honour and Black simply ignoring it so far. "He isn't too close to Dumbledore and so far he seems to be grey in his political views. He's gathering allies but so far it looks like he's avoiding Malfoy as well."

"And should he ever try to take you away from your parents," Hermione added, "he has no legal rights to back him up. Naturally, you should still be careful. The British Ministry isn't above ignoring the laws or even changing them if some influential pureblood demands it. Malfoy has been more or less ruling Great Britain this way for years."

"I'll be careful," Harry promised. "Too bad we don't have someone within the Ministry. You know, like an early warning system should Black try something."

Hermione looked thoughtful for a moment, before remembering. "You could ask Madam Longbottom to speak with her mother-in-law. She's close to Michael and would certainly be willing to help the both of you. Madam Augusta Longbottom is quite influential and well-connected. She could put out her feelers to learn about any legal attempts regarding Michael and you."

"Good idea. I'll ask her."

.

Alice Longbottom had been eager to help, but so far hadn't heard anything worthwhile from her mother-in-law. Either Black was more careful in hiding his agenda than they assumed or he simply hadn't tried anything so far. One the other hand, the friends weren't one step closer to figuring out why Black was judged "dangerous" in the eyes of the Nargles. So, they decided to stay away from him and guard Luna closely – a duty Harry was very willing to take on.

"You'll spend Christmas with the Grangers again, Luna, won't you?" Paul asked after a while.

"Yes, I will," Luna smiled broadly. "Dad is invited as well. We want to visit Vienna together. We'll take a Muggle flight, departing the day before Christmas. Dad is so excited." With the Yuleball occurring on the 21st of December, the students were expected to return to their families on the 22nd only. Harry wasn't happy about being separated from Luna for more than two weeks, but he was over the moon at the prospect of getting to spend time with his parents and his friends back in Canada. He had finished most of his presents already and intended to hand over Luna's to Hermione before the girls departed. _Hopefully, she'll enjoy it_ , he mused.

"I asked Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick for their permission," Paul continued, "for Hermione and you to go to London to accompany us for the first part of our Dreamwalk back to Canada instead of taking the train." He had other plans as well, but those still needed the approval of their parents.

"Yeah!" Luna left her seat, barely taking the time to put her cup down, before jumping on Paul and hugging him madly. She had been hoping for such a chance since Jenny told her about the Dreamwalk. Now, she would experience it on her own!

"It's alright," Paul patted her back. He turned serious and said sternly: "but you have to promise me to be careful. No wandering off, no calling out to the inhabitants and no picking flowers. The Dreamwalk is not like some Sunday afternoon picnic. You have to be careful." _And he had to prepare something special as well._

"I'll be careful," Luna promised without any hint of her usual dreamy state.

 _Sometimes_ , Harry mused, _she's surprising us all with her sudden seriousness_. Hermione had told him of Luna's parents and the early death of her mother therefore he wondered how Luna would have been without that traumatic event.

"Now we only have to plan something nice for Michael's Christmas."

It was time for some good old brainstorming.

.

 _ **Charms classroom – a few days later**_

.

"This is the wand movement you use to summon a Patronus," Professor Flitwick explained. He demonstrated the movement a couple of times, turning left and right to give the students the opportunity to watch from all sides. "As you see, the movement itself isn't very complex. The incantation is _Expecto Patronum_." He repeated it a couple of times, taking care to pronounce it exactly. "Both wand movement and incantation are easy to learn. The difficulty is in the other two requirements: First, you need a magical core that is strong enough to cast it. Mister Howell certainly meets that requirement, but with Miss Granger and Mister Bain we'll have to see. Mister Bain's core has grown stronger this year, but he is still weakened from the first task and his recovery. Miss Granger's core is weaker, but with time I expect her to compensate for that handicap. She has always been very precise in her spell-casting, using a lesser amount of magic to get it right while others were simply force-pushing for it." Hermione could live with that statement.

Luna was watching the lesson with interest. Her magical core was currently too weak, but that didn't stop her from learning the theory. That would make it easier for her to actually cast the spell in a year or two. So today she had accepted the duty of taking notes, complete with sketches of the wand movements.

"The last requirement is to get into the right emotional state," Filius concluded. "The simple statement about casting the Patronus spell is: _you need a happy thought_. Naturally, it isn't that simple, it never is. But it is quite close to the truth. The most widespread use of the Patronus spell is to protect yourself against Dementors and similar creatures of darkness and shadow. They spread an aura of fear and despair, and make you remember your worst experience like a living nightmare. In face of that, it is difficult to stay calm and strong. You have to believe in yourself. You have to trust your own abilities to protect yourself and your friends, and to remember that you want to live, what you live for and that there will be a future for you. The suggested happy thought doesn't have to represent a real experience. For most people, it's more like a state of inner happiness as you imagine something. Hope for a future with someone, something you wish to happen, or something you plan to do in the future."

He looked around and got nods from the trio of students. "For the next few weeks, I want you to do two things: first, to train on the wand movement and incantation. Do this together if possible, to have someone there to correct you. It won't help if you learn it wrong. Please notice: only wand movement and incantation, no real casting. Understood?" Again he got a round of nods. "Afterwards you'll have to think about the emotional requirement. I expect that to take far longer, and you'll have to do that mostly on your own. Think about what makes you happy. Try to invoke that thought and feeling, allow it to permeate your mind, heart and body. Try to hold on to that feeling and cast a few simple spells like Lumos. For most people, you are not seeking that crazy happiness you feel when you want to jump around and scream to the world. No, it is a calmer one: the happiness that makes you smile. We'll meet after the Christmas break and speak about it. Only then will you try to cast the spell. Do not by any means attempt it on your own."

The students promised. _Hopefully, they really listened_ , Filius mused.

.

 _ **Shamanistic Classroom**_

.

"Very good Luna, that was really good," Paul praised the girl.

With only a few days left until Christmas break, Paul Masterson had offered a special lesson about the Oxygen Spell. Like the Stabilize Spell he had used on Michael to give Madam Pomfrey more time for his treatment, the spell's effect varied greatly with the competence, magical strength and urgency felt by the caster. It extended the time the recipient was able to hold his breath. While an untrained student was able to hold his breath for a maximum of only about two minutes, the Oxygen spell could easily extend this to ten minutes or more, with a true master like Paul getting results of thirty or even forty minutes. The drawback was that this only worked if the recipient was calm and inactive for the duration of the spell. Swimming and diving would severely decrease the duration. It wasn't a suitable surrogate for something like the Bubblehead Charm – or the Gillyweed that Harry and Michael preferred – but it was an effective emergency solution should everything else fail.

Both Hermione and Michael had their problems with the spell, as Paul had expected. Hermione got even worse results than Michael. Still, she continued to try, if only to please Greg. The young man was working as Paul's assistant again and enjoyed the time he was allowed to spend with Hermione. Greg's grasp of the spell was really impressive and earned him a smile from the girl. Harry was there as well and taught the spell to both Fleur and Gabrielle Delacour. Fleur, despite her age and magical heritage, was better at this than most of the older Hogwarts and Beauxbatons students. Paul assumed it had to do with her being a Veela and her magic being more in tune with her emotions and less mind-controlled than usual for most wand-users. He had allowed her sister to partake in the lesson despite her young age after receiving a letter from the girls' mother. Apparently, her father had assented to Gabrielle becoming Fleur's hostage in the second task – without asking for the mother's consent. Apolline Delacour hadn't been impressed and Paul imagined the father would be staying in the guest room for the foreseeable future. It also confirmed Jenny's suspicion about "what you miss the most" being a person and not an item. Paul wasn't allowed to speak with Fleur about this but he had the feeling she already knew.

"Impressive, Gabby," Harry applauded the girl.

Gabrielle really wanted to make her sister proud and gave her best. She was a bit like Hermione in that regard and her determination got results. They intended to continue the lesson in the Prefect bath in January, and Harry had no doubt that the little girl would be able to cast the spell even under duress should the need arise. After his experience with the first task, he didn't trust Headmaster Dumbledore to take adequate safety precautions and was happy to see that both Luna and Gabrielle would be safe anyhow. None of the Durmstrang students had been willing to take Paul up for his offer to teach them this very special kind of spell. Hopefully, they wouldn't regret it.

As he continued to help the other students, Harry thought about the next few days. There was still much to do. Hermione and Paul had prepared a schedule for the things Michael and Harry had to train on while being away from Hogwarts. The bubblehead charm would certainly take the longest to accomplish as it belonged to the sixth year curriculum. Harry wasn't certain he would even be able to pull it off, but luckily he had far more options under his sleeve than Michael. On the other hand he already knew how to cut a rope with his bare hand and his first attempts at picking locks wordlessly had been quite promising. Luckily, both Michael and Harry got a special dispense to use their wands while away from Hogwarts for the duration of the tournament. Training would have been more difficult otherwise, especially for Michael who would stay in Great Britain.

A quite different topic was the summoning of watchers. While Paul wasn't willing to start teaching that special kind of magic to Luna – and had quite harshly forbidden Harry to do so – he had been willing to tell the girl a few things about the theory and even offered a number of books, books that had found their way into Hermione's and Michael's hands as well. Harry intended to continue his training in that subject, this time with Jerry becoming used to water being the new focus. Jerry didn't like water all that much and made it plainly visible, but Harry had only to mention Luna and how much the girl depended on Jerry's teamwork in the second task to convince the small squirrel to try its best. _Jerry, you are simply the best_.

.

 _ **Matron Mathilda's flat**_

.

Anybody looking for Harry and Michael would certainly not have expected to find them in this place – for those who even knew that this place existed. It was a very cosy flat, barely high enough for a human to enter. Harry's woodcraft had accommodated for the chairs's sturdiness to hold their weight as it wasn't meant for human use. Luna was surrounded by at least half a dozen empty cups and easily as many empty dishes. She was apparently intent on trying each and every sort of tea and cake in sight. Hermione was deep in thoughts after Matron Mathilda explained about her kind and the real nature of their bonding to wizards and witches. Because of this, she was only listening to Harry with half an ear, despite the real interesting topic.

"So far I know of four very different types of Spirits," Harry commenced: "First, the Watchers." He gestured towards Jerry. The chirpy squirrel kept Luna company, watcher and girl looking like they were comparing notes on the taste of the offered morsels. "A watcher is a construct of a shaman's magic, without a mind of its own but able to learn and develop a personality. A strong shaman, by summoning the same watcher again and again, could get a companion with an intelligence approaching that of an average human. My Summoning teacher has such a companion: Mandy, his watcher, has been around for nearly thirty years now. Her IQ, according to a test taken a couple of years ago, is in the high eighties. Paul could easily beat that score, I'm sure, but he has never been a big fan of watchers. He only uses them rarely, most often as messengers, and never calls the same watcher twice."

Michael leaned back in his seat and sipped his tea. Parvati was at his side, half asleep. He knew, she was only around because of him and had no real interest in the topic, but he appreciated it nonetheless.

"The second type is Ghosts. Most of them have been living humans in the past, staying in this world because of something binding them to a place, or their feeling – rightfully or not – that there is something left to accomplish before they can go on. A smaller number of ghosts stay behind because they simply want to or they fear what awaits them on the other side. In the eyes of my people, ghosts aren't a good thing and most of them should have left this world instead of lingering. There are very few good reasons to stay. So far, I've met no ghost at Hogwarts with such a reason. I know that Paul is very unhappy that no headmaster solved that matter so far. The Grey Lady or the Bloody Baron, and especially Myrtle – none of them should have stayed at Hogwarts for so long. They emit auras of guilt, shame and hurt, and none of them have a reason good enough for staying. At least that's my people's opinion." He sighed deeply and shrugged. "But I'm not conceited enough to think I always have to be right. And Paul forbade me to exorcise them."

Michael blinked. He could do that? He knew Harry was magically a powerhouse, and quite talented at the Art of Summoning – Paul had mentioned it more than once. But to exorcise a Hogwarts ghost was certainly something quite different, was it not? _His people_ – Harry said _his people_ , meaning the Kutenai, something that would enrage the pureblood wizards of Great Britain to no end. For most of them, it was certainly unimaginable to have someone willingly leave this country and its magical traditions behind to embrace something so different. He wished he could have this as well, someone to call _his people_.

"It was wise of him," Matron Mathilda interjected. "While I agree that it is time for some of them to go on, others have duties to fulfil, still have a reason often unknown to us to stay behind. Some of them have been waiting for centuries for the right moment to accomplish their task. I can feel in my bones that one such hour is very close, close enough that you may even get to experience it."

Harry had been unhappy about following Paul's advice. His Canadian teacher had ingrained in him the wish and duty to help ghosts find their eternal peace. He intended to speak with Paul and his teacher about Myrtle over Christmas. She, at least, deserved eternal peace in his eyes. But with Matron Mathilda agreeing as well, perhaps he was in the wrong about it.

"The third kind of spirits represents what my people feel most connected to. Sometimes they are called Totems, but that's a bit misleading." Harry concentrated for a moment. Seconds later, The Wolf appeared. Paul would have been proud to watch this. He knew that The Wolf had taken a strong liking to the boy and Harry's talent at calling forth spirits with sweet words and pure charisma was well-known among their people, but it was still a quite impressive feat. The Wolf only took a look around, ascertaining that his protégée was safe and vanished again. "Most of them have the appearance of an animal, symbolizing a couple of traits and preferences that can be found in the humans they bond with. But beware: It's not like all wolf-bondlings are the same. There are strong differences in the traits and strength they share. But the Spirit of a Kutenai is a good hint of one's dominant character."

Harry stayed silent for a while, thinking. He took a look around as if searching for something. "The fourth and last kind of Spirit I know of is actually one that surrounds each of us all the time. Many places, especially places that have been inhabited for a long time or that draw a greater amount of interest and emotions from humans, develop something that we call a House Spirit. The place doesn't really have to be a house; it can be a castle, a village or some ruin. It may represent a memorial or a monument, a public place for gathering or a centre of arts. The more famous and lived-in the place, the older it is and the stronger the spirit gets. A ten-year-old mansion used as a home by a single family can have a spirit that barely developed a conscience. A monument or theatre, drawing strong emotions from hundreds of people every day for a long time, would have a Spirit stronger than any wizard. Those Spirits develop personalities of their own, its type depending of its origin and the emotions gathered through the humans. Thousands of children survived because of caring house spirits. Thousands of accidents happened because a spirit wanted to extract revenge or to protect another inhabitant." Harry narrowed his brows and stared Matron Mathilda in the eye.

"At first, I assumed Hogwarts was the same. When I approached the castle, I felt the presence of a couple of ghosts and a very strong spirit, stronger than any other I've met in the past. I thought it to be such a spirit, existing for as long as Hogwarts did, the emotions of the students and staff strengthening it with every passing year. But then it appeared at the second task. It saved Michael's life. It spoke." Michael was hanging to his lips now. He had noticed back then that something unusual happened, but had been in too much pain to notice any details. "Her voice was different. It wasn't like a Spirit with one personality but more like a gathering of those. It is a fifth kind of Spirit, isn't it? Something unique."

Harry hoped for an answer, that Matron Mathilda would be willing – and allowed – to speak about _Hogwarts_. He had met "Granny" once in the hospital ward. Harry recognized her as an ancient house-elf and so much more. She was a weird mix of magical being and spirit, like she was slowly and over the course of many years changing from one into the other. Not even Paul, who had spent more time around the remarkable being, had been able to explain it. Martin would know more, Harry had no doubt. But he wouldn't tell anyone about it that he was sure of too. Martin was like that, had always been. The Spirit of Hogwarts was even more unique. To his surprise, Matron Mathilda didn't answer immediately, but looked like she wasn't certain whether she was allowed to explain. Luckily, Luna took the decision from her.

"It felt like the Spirit was a gathering of many house-elves," she suggested without looking up from her newest cup of tea: "Mm, thorn bush with a hint of thistle."

Matron Mathilda relaxed, knowing that she was now allowed to speak if Hogwarts had chosen to show a hint of her nature to Luna. "Luna is right – mostly. And you are as well, young Harry." He had no problems with her calling him young. After all, she had done the same with Headmaster Dumbledore. Among his friends he didn't have to be the strong and nearly adult one, not like back home where he still had to fight to be taken seriously by the adult tribe members. "It started not unlike what you said about Spirits of places, only with the exception that the four founders initiated it and infused the newly born spirit with some of their power. They wanted a strong castle spirit, quickly; someone able and willing to defend the castle in times of need. Because they infused it with their power, it got a hint of their personality as well. It was the origin but not the main reason of that multiple personality you noticed at the first task."

"This origin, the duration of its existence and the size of the castle alone would make for an impressive Spirit already, but there is more to it, isn't it?" Harry wondered. "Sometimes, my teacher told me, spirits are strengthened by other surrounding spirits that lose their old place because it was destroyed. And sometimes animals those die and are strongly connected to the place, like a beloved pet, join with the spirit."

"Your teacher is correct. However, it has to be mentioned that those pets, or more exactly their ghosts, don't join the house spirit themselves. Instead it is more like an echo of them. You know the paintings here in Hogwarts." The teenagers nodded. "The Headmaster has a couple of them in his office, painting of former headmasters. Naturally, those aren't the real former headmasters as this would be a cruel thing. Instead it is like a copy of their knowledge and personality at a certain moment, some kind of magical snapshot. With most pictures it holds the moment the artist created the picture. With those headmaster paintings it is the moment of their death, created by Hogwarts' magic."

"You want to tell us, that at the moment of their death copies of the house-elves of Hogwarts join the Castle Spirit?" Harry asked, thinking about the result of such a thing. Over the course of the centuries there had certainly been hundreds of house elves dying in service of the castle.

"Not all of them, but many do," Matron Mathilda shocked the teenagers with their acknowledgment. "Should a younger house elf die, he often lacks the connection with the castle to accomplish this. Older house elves sometimes loose the connection or simply want to go on completely. But many decide to leave something behind, happy to serve the castle even in death. Especially those elves that know of their death in advance – frail or seriously sick ones – choose that path." Her husband had been one of those. For him, there had been no doubt that he wouldn't be allowed to survive his imprisonment by the dark lord, not with him denying the mad wizard his knowledge about the castle's secrets. "Over time, the Spirit of Hogwarts grew stronger and stronger. More and more elves joined with the spirit, allowing it to be everywhere at once, protecting the students from any accidents that would happen otherwise. But," she lifted a single frail hand. "Hogwarts isn't allowed to interfere all the time. The four founders bound it, wishing for the inhabitants to make their own decision, choose their own path be it one leading to the eternal light or damning darkness. Hogwarts is neither your mother, nor your spiritual leader. You still have to grow up on your own and the staff members have to fulfil their duty without depending on the castle's assistance. Humans have a free will. It is their right – and duty – to use it."

.

 _ **Great Hall – 21st of December**_

.

The last few days had passed so incredible fast. The girls had spent the day of the Yuleball preparing for the evening. Even Hermione, usually not caring very much for _girly things,_ had allowed Padma and Luna to take care of her outfit. Regretfully, she would not be allowed to sit with Harry and Luna tonight. Harry and Michael, as champions, had to sit with the important ones, the aloof, and the pretentious. Harry could really have done without Dumbledore's ever-twinkling eyes and Karkaroff's cold sneer. From the trio of headmasters, only Madam Maxime was likeable. But at least, he had Luna at his side. She wore a dream of silver, one-shoulder-free that accentuated her slim figure. She had exchanged her butterbeercork necklace for a sapphire one, a heirloom from her late mother. The matching earrings had unfortunately been destroyed in the explosion that killed her mother. Harry intended to bestow her a new pair of those at a later date. This Christmas he wanted something more personal for her.

He raised his goblet to Michael who was sitting a bit down the table, another small devilment of their unbeloved headmaster. Parvati sat at his side and did her best to make Michael enjoy the feast, drawing him into conversations with Viktor's date Ivalina, Fleur and Bill. Viktor was mostly ignoring his date, with Ivalina only being a fill-in after the juice debacle. According to rumours, Karkaroff had to order her to accept Viktor's invitation and to toss the date she initially planned to go with, after the champion was unable to get any other appropriate girl to accept his invitation – appropriate in his eyes as Viktor didn't want to _humiliate_ himself by asking one of the uglier or younger students. _He shouldn't have offended the girls_ , Harry snickered. The trio of Slytherin princesses, after learning what Viktor thought of them and how he had lied to them, had ensured that no girl of House Slytherin would accept his offer. Many Hogwarts girls had reacted quite similarly, offended about his treatment of Hermione, and Fleur had quite forcefully forbidden her French schoolmates to accompany Viktor, despite some of them being very eager to do so. At the beginning, Ivalina had looked as unhappy as Viktor, but now she was thawing a little with Parvati and Fleur doing their best to entertain her.

"He still has family," Luna whispered, closely watching how Percy, Charlie and Bill behaved around Michael. She was happy to notice that all three Weasley boys treated him like they did before this whole debacle, obviously eager to show him that they still thought of him as their younger brother. Percy and his date Penny had their place at the end of the main table. His boss Crouch, a man Harry disliked from the start, was sitting right beside Headmaster Dumbledore, the even more unwelcome Madam Umbridge on his other side. She was present in place of the Minister, her presence apparently annoying the Headmaster immensely. It couldn't have happened to a better man.

 _Hermione will be happy to see Penny and Percy_ , Harry mused, poking around in his vegetables. He knew how much she missed Penny, and Harry hoped to meet the girl soon. Someone in such high standing with Hermione and Luna certainly was someone worthy to meet. _Perhaps we can visit them coming Easter break_.

"Yes, he has," Harry nodded, shortly glancing towards Charlie Weasley. The young man had shortly but cordially greeted Michael, his blushing surprise date Padma at his side. She was the envy of many older girls, with the dashing dragon-handler treating her like a princess. Nobody had known about it, not even Hermione. "But I still fear what the Christmas feast will be like at the Weasleys." He hated how the Twins and Ron treated Michael.

"Have you told him about Molly's letters?" Luna asked, not looking up from the piece of parsley she was examining like it contained some important riddle to be solved. Harry flinched for a second. He hadn't told her about the letters either. _Perhaps I shouldn't be surprised, she simply notices everything_. Harry gently grabbed her hand, lifted it to his lips and kissed her fingers. Luna turned around, looking surprised but certainly not unhappy about the intimate gesture. Turning serious, Harry sighed. "No, I don't have. Should I?"

Luna thought about it for a while and nodded slowly. "It will hurt him, but it would be the honest thing to do, and respectful as well. Michael could do with a bit more respect these days."

With a heavy heart, Harry accepted the truth of her words. "I'll tell him before he departs." He grimaced for a second. "Molly is a real bitch."

Luna grinned: "A bitchy witch; a twitchy bitchy witch."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Has Michael told you something about his Christmas plans?"

Luna nodded. "He'll stay with Charlie and Bill. Apparently, Bill inherited a small cottage from his grandmother, Shell Cottage. It's empty most of the time, at least for now. I have the feeling that will change soon enough." Harry followed her eyes towards Bill who was seriously flirting with Fleur. "I think Michael will be happier with those two than to be forced to share the house with the TBW." Harry could only agree.

.

A bit later, Harry was ripped out of his deep thoughts by a pointy elbow lodging itself into his ribs. He jumped a little and noticed Luna's look towards the dancing floor, a single silvery eyebrow rose in question.

"May I have this dance, milady?" Nobody could blame him being slow.

"I would be enchanted," Luna accepted with a broad smile.

They glided towards the dance floor, so far dominated by the sheer presence of his sister. Jenny had accepted Cedric's invitation – _we're going as friends only_ – and Harry had done his brotherly duty. Mostly, it had been a warning not to annoy his sister. _You really don't want to get on her bad side. You really, really don't_. Luckily, Cedric was clever enough to avoid that error and was too much of a gentleman to force Harry to step in. There was no pawing and no drooling. _She could have done worse, far worse_. While Luna hadn't nearly got the dancing skills of his sister or his mother, she had a very rare grace and an otherworldliness that somehow transferred even to her dancing. It felt like they weren't dancing in the Great Hall anymore but actually somewhere else, perhaps in a moonlit meadow or on the surface of a silvery pond, with faeries watching them and unicorns guarding them from intruders. He had only eyes for Luna, felt her in his arms and was simply happy.

 _I wished this night would last forever._

.

"Hi Penny," Hermione hugged her older friend like she hadn't seen her for years and years. "It has been far too long."

Percy rolled his eyes but smiled good-naturedly, listening to the girls and their unavoidable smalltalk about Penny's apprenticeship, Hermione's schoolyear and everything in between. Admittedly, he had a more than passing interest in her extensive report about the lessons in Shamanistic magic. However, it was no surprise that sooner or later their talk drifted to the topic of Michael, their mood turning far more serious.

"He was really happy to hear that he could stay with Bill and Charlie," Hermione spoke softly. "I think he fears spending time with Molly. He was certainly hurt about her reaction after Halloween, or better said her non-reaction. She still isn't on speaking terms with him. Apparently, she thinks of him as a traitor to the family, or an insidious betrayer, or something."

"What happened was hardly his fault," Penny growled. "If Molly wants to be cross with someone she should yell and scream at Headmaster Dumbledore." Getting Molly Weasley as her mother-in-law was the one downer in her relationship with Percy. Not that they were speaking about marriage already. But a girl could still dream.

"You have to be wrong, Penny," Percy interjected with a drawl, not missing the chance to tease his girlfriend. Both girls turned around and glared at him, until he raised his hands in surrender. Mock-serious he intonated: "Dumbledore is the leader of the Light, the Herold of the celestial forces smiting the evildoers to pieces. He knows everything, he decides rightly and justly every day of the year. He…"

"How do you bear that the whole time?" Hermione teased Penny.

The older girl sighed exaggeratedly: "With no small amount of humour and endless patience."

"Hey," Percy complained loudly, earning him a round of snickers.

The good mood vanished as Ron, an ugly sneer on his face, interrupted the conversation: "Are we laughing about Granger? You know, it's quite sad for a girl to go to a ball without a date. Not that I don't understand the other boys. I mean: look at you. Who would want to go with an ugly duck like you?" Lavender had been following the boy around, her date of the evening. Now, she looked very embarrassed by Ron's behaviour and wanted to be somewhere completely different.

A few months ago, Hermione would have cried. Not because it was true but because she wasn't allowed to go to the ball with the boy she wanted. There had been invitations from other boys, some of them because they liked her or wanted to show her that not all boys were this shallow; others because they wanted to mock Krum or get closer to Harry. She rejected all of them. Yes, months ago she would have been crying about the cruel words, but not anymore. "This coming from the boy wearing curtains for robes, very antiquated curtains. What happened, Weasley? No friend was able to pimp you up?" She knew that his family was poor, but really? Had he no friends able to charm his robes? For a moment she wondered why even his Twin brothers had not seen the need to help their baby brother. Inwardly shrugging, she decided that she shouldn't be all that surprised. Helping others had never been high on the Twins' agenda.

Ron recoiled as Hermione drew her wand, but she only cast a couple of spells onto his robe. She removed the ugly embroidery, purged the cloth of the disgusting moth powder smell and changed the size to be more form-fitting. Lavender's eyes widened. She liked this Ron far better. The robe had really been quite ugly and smelling, making dancing quite an ordeal – not that Ron was such a great dancer from the start. _Not like Harry_ , Lavender sighed.

"See, if you had a friend, you could have been like this." Now it was her turn to put on a sneer. "Regretfully, you don't have any." And with a swish everything returned to the robe he had started the evening with, nearly causing Lavender to cry. Ron on the other hand made a good imitation of a fish, his face as red as his hair, looking hot enough to burn eggs on his forehead. Unable to find a response, he allowed Lavender to pull him away with an apologizing smile towards Hermione.

"You know," Penny said with a thoughtful look. "The robe is really ugly." Without waiting for a response, she drew her wand to charm Ron's robes only to hesitate.

"You know you aren't headgirl anymore," Percy whispered into her ear. "You're allowed to prank other students."

"I know," Penny responded with a sigh. "But he is still your brother. It isn't right to humiliate him in front of the other students."

"Don't fear," Hermione deadpanned. "He is doing a good job of that on his own."

"That he is, isn't he?" Penny grinned, her wish to charm Ron's robes a nice Slytherin silver/green already forgotten. She watched Lavender for a moment, the girl flinching back because of the ugly and more importantly again stinking robes. _Poor girl!_

.

Severus nipped his brandy in the shadows, watching. In a few minutes, he would have to make another round through the garden. It was an unspoken agreement among the teachers to leave it to the dour potion master to put the fear of Merlin into the young couples making out in the rose garden. However he intended to wait for Karkaroff's return before he went off, as he had no wish for a repetition of their nearly weekly angst-burdened discussions. The former Death Eater, who had saved his own arse after the war by snitching on his comrades, had been terrified since his arrival at Hogwarts. His Dark Mark had been growing darker for a while already. It was the same with Severus and it troubled him as well. The change could easily be a warning signal that the Dark Lord was returning. Albus had expected it to happen from the start, the very reason why he wanted Severus to stay at Hogwarts and to have Harry under his complete control. Yes, Severus was concerned, but Karkaroff was simply terrified. He was a well-known traitor to the course, didn't even have Severus' excuse of only playing the spy. Should the Dark Lord really return Karkaroff's days would be counted.

A round of cackles caused Severus to look up. Draco was holding court, Pansy Parkinson at his side. He frowned, thinking about the changes he had observed in his godson lately. They had been close since the boy was a toddler. For a while he had treated Draco nearly like a son, and he was certain that Draco had returned the feeling. Lucius wasn't an easy-to-please father. He demanded a perfection Draco was not able to provide. Yes, he had talent and one day he would be an accomplished wizard. But he would never be great. Narcissa had always loved and spoiled the boy, far too much in Severus' eyes. Lucius however had been demanding, full of harsh words and expectations. He wanted Draco to become the Prince of Slytherin like he had been twenty years ago. Back then Lucius had led House Slytherin with charming words and an iron fist. Severus sighed. He had been a great friend for a poor half-blood with nothing to offer besides his talents in potions.

Draco, the Prince of Slytherin he was not – not in the slightest both to the boy's confusion and Lucius' disappointment. His spoiled behaviour had been grating on the older students' nerves. His endless "if my father hears about this" prattle had been even worse for his reputation; as for his social standing. He had only been known as Lucius' son. At least, it had been like that for the first two years at Hogwarts. Severus wasn't certain when he noticed the changes first. Perhaps it started in Draco's second year, around the death of Theo Nott. Draco seemed to grow up a bit, turned more serious and disciplined. He still had tantrums from time to time and he wasn't really able to leave behind his spoiled behaviour, but he did change. For more than a year, he had improved, not by leaps and bounds but steadily. He started to gather allies from other houses, tried to be calmer and politer, applying charm where he had been demanding in earlier times. He had even started to show more interest in his studies, especially in Charms and DADA, which earned him a couple of praises from his teachers. For a few months, Lucius had been happy and it looked like Draco had a chance to grow into the kind of man his father wanted him to be.

But it all came crushing down since the return of Sirius Black. The ex-Marauder had started to make an impact, both in society and politics. He had been able to gather a group of discontent Pureblood – discontent both with the Ministry and the other two political leaders in today's Britain. Both Albus and Lucius had lost much of their former influence, partially thanks to Black, the rest because of last summer's events. Quite a few of the darker Houses had distanced themselves from Lucius. Not because he had been Muggle-hunting at the Quidditch Cup, but because he had been stupid enough to get caught. And Black had been able to draw away a number of grey houses as well. Many of them had never been content with Albus and Lucius, but had to follow one of them for lack of another option. Now they had been offered a third way. Even Severus had to admit that he was impressed by Black's success. Within barely a year, he had been able to get on equal footing with his two contenders. Not that he liked him an ounce more than before. No, in contrary his overall opinion of the man had worsened because of how he handled Lily's son. Lovegood's reaction had been the talk of the school and despite the girl's weirdness he trusted her instincts in matters regarding the boy.

 _One Ravenclaw, another, and a Hufflepuff. Not many Slytherins and not a single Gryffindor_ , Severus mused while watching Draco and his group of associates. The size of the group had dwindled this year. Especially the Slytherins had started to pull back again. While only a small number completely avoided him like Goyle, Crabbe and Bulstrode, quite a few stayed carefully neutral while looking up to their new leader: Adrian Pucey. Pucey's father – a close friend of Nott Sr. – was one of the Purebloods following Black now. A bit of money, a couple of book deliveries and a few social gatherings had done wonders to Pucey's standing and his success especially among the older, more intelligent, and ambitious Slytherins. So far, he had kept to Slytherins alone, making Severus wonder sometimes how much Azkaban had changed Black, who had been an outspoken hater of his house.

 _I'll have to keep an eye on that_. Severus put down his glass. It was time for another round of inducing fear. _Oh, the small perks of being a teacher_.

.

 _ **Grimmauld Place**_

.

"My Lord," _Sirius Black_ greeted his master and stepped aside with a deep bow. He didn't feel silly to behave like this around a teenaged girl, knowing exactly that _her_ mind had nothing to do with girlish naivety. If there was anything left behind of Ginny Weasley it had no influence anymore on the activities of her former body. He watched his master enter the sitting room, obviously deep in thoughts but not unhappy. Silently, he waited for his master to start speaking. Interrupting his thinking was a swift way to get on the receiving end of his painful wand.

"The evening had been enlightening," Tom commented, while putting on the table another important part of the puzzle that was his soul. Pettigrew's eyes widened at the sight of the Diadem – Ravenclaw's Diadem, priceless artefact and officially lost for hundreds of years. Tom sat down and allowed Pettigrew to pour him a glass of port. That damned tiny girlish body wouldn't stomach something stronger. It was deep in the night of the Yuleball and he had to get back in time. Tomorrow, Ginny Weasley would return to her family for Christmas – hopefully the last Christmas he would have to spend in this body. He looked up and examined _Sirius Black_. Yes, that body would be more appropriate. He couldn't wait to make it happen. And he finally had a date for the ritual.

"Now we have all of them in our hands, aside from the sliver trapped by Dumbledore." _The most important one,_ he inwardly seethed. Regretfully, that one had to wait until the time was ready. "With that Hogwarts Castle Spirit around, it was too dangerous to leave the Diadem in Hogwarts." Tom was in a loquacious mood this evening.

"Everything is prepared for the ritual, my Lord," Pettigrew humbled. "Black is well fed and healthy. I put him under an Imperio to make him stay in shape and to prevent any suicidal thoughts."

"Well done, Pettigrew. Really well done," Tom was in an unusually good mood. "I'm pleased with your efforts."

"Thank you, my Lord." He bowed deeply. This time he wouldn't be the unimportant servant, oh no.

Tom played with the glass for a moment, looking thoughtful. "Something else was unveiled tonight. It seems like we have an unexpected ally." He looked up and offered Pettigrew a rare smile that his servant lapped up hungrily. "You were right about the dear Mister Crouch."

Pettigrew's eyes widened and he felt a bit giddy. "Is it really his son pretending to be his father?"

"That it is. You said he was a loyal servant back then?"

"Yes, he was," Pettigrew eagerly nodded. "He was mostly following around Bellatrix and the LeStrange brothers. His only fault, as far as I remember, was his lack of patience."

Tom nodded gravely. "Apparently, he learned to rain in his temper since then." He lent back and sipped his port. It had been easy to catch the man off-guard as he was on his way to leave the castle after the ball. Disillusioned and bound, Barty found his way into an empty storeroom, his eyes widening when the "girl" read his mind with ease. Tom had released him after some smalltalk about his plans for both Michael and Harry, plans Tom actually confirmed. After getting rid of Dumbledore, he would have no more use of the Bain boy, and the real boy-who-lived could certainly be of use for his intended little ritual. Yes, he allowed Crouch to continue – after convincing him that he was the one in charge. Pouring pain into the man through his dark mark had accomplished that quite quickly and efficiently. "He'll keep you informed about his plans and actions. But so far, we'll allow him to continue as he wishes."

Pettigrew nodded slowly. He didn't like this development all too much. He would have to install the rightful pecking order and swiftly. "And did he kill the Longbottom boy?" That had been the official result of the investigation one decade ago – a result his master had doubted strongly.

"No," Tom smiled broadly. "I don't know what happened to the Longbottoms, as that memory is buried. But one thing was clear: someone messed with his memory of the event. He killing the boy was an implanted thought, not what actually happened."

Pettigrew's smile widened. "Dumbledore will go down."

Tom responded with an equally broad grin. "That he will, my loyal servant. That he surely will."


	18. Chapter 18 Family Celebrations

**Family Celebrations**

.

 _ **Dreamland around Great Britain – 22**_ _ **nd**_ _ **of December**_

.

Luna looked around in wonder, wide-eyed. For once, the quirky blonde was both dumbstruck and speechless. Even her special way of Seeing hadn't prepared her for this. Harry supposed the Dreamlands to be even weirder for someone like her as she was able to see far more from these strange lands than her travelling companions. He kept close to her, both to protect her and to keep her from wandering off. It was hard work actually, but he didn't mind. Luna behaved like a puppy in a meadow full of butterflies. You never knew what would next catch her eye and she'd chase after it with a speed belying her short but shapely legs.

As he had offered weeks ago, Paul Masterson had gathered not only his Canadian charges - Harry, Jenny and Floe -, but also Hermione and Luna for the trip back home. He intended to make a detour to a small sacred place near the Granger home before they continued to cross the Atlantic. Not that Harry had any idea how the places here corresponded to the ones in the real world. _Real world_ , he soundlessly snickered. The Dreamlands looked as real as the other one. He knew that some places existed on both planes while others belonged only to one of them. There were huge frightening forests full of noises, fog and creepy motions at the edge of your sight that only existed in the Dreamlands. On the other hand, it mostly ignored areas that were disturbing to magic like factories and concentrations of electricity. It was the same with broad aquatic areas, resulting in the Atlantic Ocean only being a shallow and not overly broad river in the Dreamlands, one they would be able to wade through later.

"Mother?"

Luna's broken voice interrupted his thoughts. He moved to step between Luna and the apparition that had suddenly appeared in front of them, blocking their path. Paul however grabbed his arm and held him back, shaking his head, acting barely quick enough to do the same with Hermione. _He knew about this_ , Harry realized. _He expected it to happen_. Harry frowned, glancing towards Luna, the apparition and Paul. _Perhaps he even arranged it_.

"Hello my little butterfly," the voice of the apparition echoed.

Harry watched her closely. It was a woman in her thirties, closely resembling an older version of Luna. He had no doubt his girlfriend would look like this in twenty years as well. She was a real beauty.

"I missed you Mum." Luna shuddered and tears started to well in her eyes.

Harry forced Paul to let him go and put an arm around Luna's shoulders. She leant into his chest and obviously fond some strength in his presence as she slowly calmed down.

"I know, my darling, but I had to go. While I really didn't want to leave you and my beloved Xeno, I had no choice.

"I understand," Luna whispered. "I hate it but I do."

"I knew you would," the apparition smiled back. She stepped closer. "And now let me take a good look at your boyfriend and your sister."

Luna wiped away her tears with her sleeve and forced a smile. She pointed towards Hermione. "That's my sister, Hermione. She protects me and I help her loosen up a bit." Hermione glared, even more so as Harry snickered.

"Nice to meet you, Hermione," the apparition greeted her.

Hermione's glare turned towards her. "Luna really missed you. She needed you. You should have been more careful," she hissed angrily.

"Mione," Luna shouted.

Hermione didn't back down. "She should have. Experimenting with potions and charms is dangerous. Not to take better care was irresponsible, even more so to allow her to watch you die. Do you have an idea what that did to Luna?" She screamed, barely keeping it together with Jenny hugging her.

Luna was mortified. Harry paled. He hadn't known about that. If that was correct, it certainly had a long-term impact on Luna's emotions. Surprisingly, the apparition didn't turn angry but sad. "You're right. I should have been more careful." She looked into Hermione's eyes. "You'll take care of her should she ever walk down that path as well?"

"You bet," Hermione mumbled.

"That's good to know," Selene Lovegood smiled broadly. "Especially in the face of what we intend to do now."

Harry blinked and glanced towards Paul. What did they have in mind?

.

 _ **A wee bit later**_

Selene Lovegood had led the small party far deeper into the scenery surrounding them than Harry had ever been. He felt other inhabitants of the Dreamland watch them closely. The Wolf was there as well and, for a second, he even saw The Racoon. However, the only Spirits openly accompanying them were The Bear and something riding on his mighty shoulders that looked like a tiny seahorse with small bat-like wings and a single horn protruding from its forehead. The Moon was bathing them in silvery light, very unusual for the Dreamlands as far as Harry knew, the heavenly body not really obeying the laws of time as it should have been late morning by now.

They walked around ponds and crossed little forests, climbed a hill and finally reached their destination, a cosy glade with a ring of standing stones. They glowed in an inner eerie light, despite looking like they were natural slabs of moss-covered granite.

"We have to stay outside," Paul raised his voice for the first time since meeting Selene Lovegood, keeping Harry and Jenny outside the circle.

"But I want…"

"I know what you want, Harry, but this is only about the girls."

Selene nodded thankfully and led Luna and Hermione into the circle. She gestured them to lift their hands and link them crosswise. Slowly, she walked around, touching each stone in passing while mumbling something. It sounded like little prayers, one for each stone, and Hermione guessed that Selene was summoning spirits to watch over them. She didn't see any, but even she felt their presence. Harry's eyes widened as he noticed a couple of Spirits appear between the trees surounding the glade. Some of them looked like forest creatures. Others seemed to be walking trees or bushes moving on dozens of tiny feet. A couple of birds were riding in their branches and twigs, staring intently.

Selene, greeting the Spirits with a small bow but otherwise ignoring them, stepped into the centre of the circle and raised her voice. "We have gathered tonight to connect these girls through the magical bond of sisterhood. Where there have been two spirits in the past, there will be only one in the future. Where had been two hearts and two minds, there will only be one, split into two bodies but never really apart. Bless Luna and Hermione. Let them be even closer than ever. Let them be sisters in magic just as already are sister of heart."

The Spirits approved.

.

They had stayed at the glade for a bit longer to give Luna some time to reconnect with her mother. But now they had to depart. Being in the dreamlands was exhausting for Selene's ghost, as Paul explained.

"We'll meet again, my little butterfly," Selene soothed her daughter. "Have no doubt. And I will always be in your heart. Please tell Xeno that I still love him, and that I expect him to go on with his life."

"I will," Luna whispered with a halting voice.

"And give him a knock on the head if he doesn't take better care of you."

"I will," Hermione growled, prompting a weak cackle from Luna.

Selene slowly departed, glancing back and waving to her daughter several times. Seconds before she vanished in the fog, she glanced towards Harry as well. "Take good care of her."

Harry only nodded, not trusting his voice.

Her last words were like a soft wind. "I approve."

.

A couple of hours later, they finally arrived at their village. They had parted ways with Luna and Hermione at the Grangers, but not before Emma Granger to give a stern talk to Harry. Emma had a vicious streak of fantasy in her bushy head and Harry shuddered at the thought of what she threatened to do should he misbehave. Not that he would ever do so.

But now they were home. He missed Luna already, and to a lesser degree he missed Hermione and Michael. However, he was more than happy to spend some time with his parents.

 _Home!_

.

 _ **Shell Cottage**_

.

"This will be your room." Bill watched his little brother thoughtfully. He had been concerned about him, but Michael looked better than expected.

"Thank you." The smile was small but not brittle. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes, especially at the sight of his things, fetched by Bill and Charlie the days before. However, he didn't look depressed, something they could thank his new friends and girlfriend for. And that Indian beauty had to be his girlfriend due to the parting kiss he witnessed.

"You can have this room as long as you wish, you know that?" Bill asked softly.

Michael sighed with a small shudder. "Okay!"

"Dinner will be in an hour. Charlie has cooked, so bring a strong stomach."

"Hey," they snickered at Charlie's mock-outcry. He wasn't the best of cooks, as Bill knew, but at least the servings would be huge. Bill smiled. He intended to make this Christmas a pleasant one. His little brother deserved it.

 _And to hell with his mother!_

.

 _ **Shell Cottage – the next day**_

.

"You have a visitor."

Michael looked up from his book. For once it wasn't about plants but dealt with India, especially Indian History and Culture. He wanted to learn more about the Patils' home, concerned that sooner or later he would unknowingly commit a social faux pas otherwise. It was really interesting. The Indian way of life mixed thousands of years of their own culture and more than a few influences from its time under British rule. The national sport, Cricket, was only one such example. _I have to ask Parvati if she is a Hindi_. Those thousands of gods certainly looked quite confusing.

He followed Charlie into the main room, his face splitting instantly into a broad grin. "Madam Longbottom," he greeted his guest.

"Hello Michael," Alice Longbottom greeted him back, equally happy to meet him again. Her heart soared every time she saw him, a reaction she didn't quite understood but happily accepted. "I brought presents."

.

She had brought news as well. Following Hermione's advice, they had begged Madam Longbottom to ask her mother in law to keep an eye on the Ministry, should someone take an unduly interest in Michael or Harry. _"She promised to take care of that. Nobody should be able to start any legal process concerning either one of you without us learning about it, especially not an adoptive case."_

That slightly lessened their fears. Alice had spent the afternoon with the boys, having known Bill and Charlie already back when they were young – before the incident with the Lestranges. Regretfully, she wouldn't be able to celebrate Christmas with them. " _I have to stay with Augusta. I have the feeling she will need my support."_ And Alice would need Augusta as well, Michael guessed. Knowing that he would perhaps never meet his parents was harsh enough, but for a mother to wake up after years of magical sleep to learn that she lost her baby son was tenfold worse.

 _My best wishes, Madam Longbottom; and a better new year._

.

 _ **Grimmauld Place – the same day**_

.

Tom was silently sipping his Sherry, ignoring his overeager servant. He would have to be careful and cleanse his breath afterwards. It wouldn't do to have Molly Weasley breathe down his neck because she smelled of alcohol. He had come to hate the time he had to spend with the Weasleys. This Christmas would be even worse. With three of her sons away from home – four if you counted Michael – the Weasley matriarch acted even more possessive of the rest. Luckily, Ron was a spoiled brat and actually enjoyed the attention, allowing _Ginny_ to slip away for a few hours.

"Has the interrogation been helpful, My Lord?" Pettigrew dared to ask. The Dark Lord looked quite relaxed and actually seemed to be in a talkative if thoughtful mood.

"It was," Tom nodded. He whirled his tumbler, staring into the drink for a while before continuing. "Apparently, there has been a prophecy, regarding my person and Potter. It was the reason my older self tried to kill the boy."

"And do you know the wording of the prophecy?" Pettigrew remembered that day. Snape had visited the Dark Lord, eager to tell him something very important. Nobody had been allowed to listen. Afterwards, the hunt began on the Longbottoms and Potters. Now, everything made sense.

"I do," Tom blinked once, his expression telling Pettigrew that it would be unhealthy to press the topic.

"That's good my Lord, very good."

.

Yes, his little talk with Sirius Black – the real one shackled to his own cellar, not the pretender running around in social circles to further Tom's political agenda – had been quite enlightening. Not only had he learned the reason of that ill-fated attack on the Potters, but also how Neville Longbottom fit into the picture.

 _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches. Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…_

According to Black, it could have been either boy. Both sets of parents had thrice defied his plans. Both boys had been born at the end of July. Whatever the reason – apparently his older self somehow decided that Harry Potter was the more likely target, choosing to personally kill the boy while sending Bella after the other one.

 _And the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal._

He had certainly done that, hitting the boy with his curse and permanently scarring him. _What would have happened had I simply ignored the prophecy?_ Tom wondered. Perhaps nothing; or the prophecy might have found another way to come true. Now, he would never know. The boy had been marked by his older self and now he had to live with the repercussions, this silly body being one of them.

 _So, it could have been you as well, Neville Longbottom_ , Tom mused. Narrowing his eyes, he tried to follow Dumbledore's reasoning on the matter. Harry Potter had been the boy who lived, but only days later he vanished. Dumbledore needed him. The political fallout from losing the boy would have been devastating, especially as he had been responsible for placing the boy with those Muggles. Black had been infuriated at the memory of Hagrid taking the boy away from him, Potter's godfather. Legally, back then Dumbledore had no right for doing so. Only Black's imprisonment, unjust as it had been, stopped the Head of House Black from causing a ruckus. Tom smiled evilly. _So, you allowed him to rot in prison. I hadn't expected you have it in you to betray your own soldiers, Albus_.

But what happened afterwards? Dumbledore needed a substitute and fast. Neville Longbottom offered himself, with his parents mad from torture and everybody else believing him dead. Someone had messed with the memory of Barty Crouch Jr, a twinkling long-bearded someone. Yes, it was the most probable option that Dumbledore decided to use Neville Longbottom as Harry Potter's replacement. But how prove it? Perhaps a ritual to show the link between the boy and Madam Longbottom was a way. Her magic obviously knew more than her mind, causing her to be around the boy more often than not. Or a potion; Tom remembered reading about a potion not unlike the more widely used Polyjuice. It was meant to help wizards that got disfigured by battle or accident, to allow them to look like their old self for a while.

 _I have to find that recipe_. He looked around. Perhaps the Black library would help him with that. He would have to grab a couple of books and peruse them later, while back at the Burrow. Pettigrew could be useful as well. He looked up, detecting the usual eagerness in Pettigrew's eyes.

"Do you per chance have any connections to a Healer at St Mungo's?"

.

 _ **British Columbia – 25**_ _ **th**_ _ **of December**_

.

The world was bright, pure and oh so white. Snow was covering the landscape and Harry and Jenny had created the biggest snowman ever, complete with wooden hat, broom and twinkling coal eyes. The whole family had listened to David Lam's Christmas speech. He was the 25th Lieutenant Governor of British Columbia and the first Chinese Canadian appointed to such a lofty position. Hockey had been declared the official winter sport of Canada, with Lacrosse being the summer equivalent. Canada's success at the 1994 Winter Olympics – the men's team got the silver medal – certainly played a big part in that decision. Harry and Jenny actually liked to play ice hockey as well, but never had been part of an official team as it would have been unfair towards the other players due to their adept powers, not to speak of Jenny's unearthly speed and agility or Harry's peerless accuracy.

"Headmaster Azuke wrote to me," Jenny announced a while later. The teenagers were lying in the snow, exhausted from their work with the snowman and incredibly enjoying the clear, cold winter air of their home.

Harry sat up and turned towards her. "What did he say?"

"Mum told him about… your little stunt." Jenny grinned while Harry rolled his eyes. "He accepted that it will delay my attendance for another year."

"But he's keeping a place open for you?" The thought had been incredible troubling for him: for Jenny to lose her place at the Academy because of him would have been a nightmare come true.

"He will." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "He actually said that he's proud of my decision to stay with you."

"He is?" Harry's face split into a grin as well. "Good for him." His expression changed into a soft smile. "You're the best sister ever." He moved to hug her but Jenny pushed him away.

"Yes, yes, stop with the emotional crap," she mock-scolded him, but he noticed the shimmer in her eyes. Frowning for a moment, she remembered something. "He also sent you a present… a small book."

"A book? For me?"

Jenny rolled her eyes. "No, for him…" she gestured towards the snowman. With a broad grin she continued. "It's certainly better that way. I'm sure he's better at reading than you." She bent forwards and whispered conspirationally: "you know, there aren't any pictures in the book." Jenny swiped an armful of snow into Harry's face and jumped up, running away as fast as possible.

"I'll get you for that," Harry followed her motion, starting another round of hilarious chasing around. It was good to be home.

.

Remus, Michiko and Jenny watched Harry as he opened the package. He had been sitting there for a while, staring at it, musing if he should even open it or simply return it to its sender: Sirius Black. Remus, wanting to protect his son's privacy but allowing his friends to send him letters, had organized a mail forwarder with Gringotts. All letters and packages addressed to Harry Potter or Harry Howell were redirected to the London branch. From there they went via New York to a small magical bank in Vancouver. The whole matter had proven to be well-organized, swift and totally necessary, as there was a small room filled with letters and all kind of presents from dozens of well-wishers all around Great Britain and even beyond. Gringotts had screened all of them and taken care of a couple of cursed letters and the single magical letter-bomb, proving that Remus had been right about the security measures.

Sirius' package had been a different matter altogether, but equally troubling. Harry had told Remus about the meeting at the dancing class and about Luna's reaction. He had no idea what prompted her to react like that but following Harry's and Jenny's lead, he trusted the quirky girl to have a very good reason for doing so. Until proven otherwise, he would treat his former friend as a risk for his family irrespective of how much it troubled him. Harry slowly distributed the content of the package on the ground. There were letters to Sirius, mostly from James but a few from his mum as well. An old potions' notebook written by Lily Evans in her sixth year; a gathering of sheets in James' messy handwriting, covered with notes about the creation of their map and their Animagus training.

 _I should tell Harry about the Animagus forms of Sirius and Peter_ , Remus decided, _and Jenny as well_.

But Harry spent most of his time with the pictures. There were dozens of them, starting in his parents' first year and going up to the years after Hogwarts. Despite meeting them for the binding ritual and listening to Remus's stories about his parents, he still didn't feel very close to them. He felt a little bad for not really missing them, not like he should. However, he would like to learn more about them, how they had been at his age. That however, was Remus' part of the story, not Sirius'. With a sigh he started to store the things back in the package.

"That was nice of him," Michiko said softly.

She didn't like Sirius Black, not after what Jenny had told her about him, but he had once been a good friend of Harry's father.

"It was," Harry nodded. "And I appreciate it. I will write him my thanks." His face hardened. "But that doesn't change anything. He's only doing this to get in my good books. No chance of doing that," he growled. "Not after Luna…" He hesitated. "I don't trust him. I don't know what changed him, but something did. I won't allow him near my friends." He threw a last look at the things before closing the package. "He'll have to do better than this to earn my trust."

.

"That's … that's incredible," Michiko gushed, her eyes pinned down to the small booklet Harry held in his hands. It was the present Jenny had mentioned, the one Harry got from Headmaster Azuke. Harry turned the book over but it didn't mention any title or author on its cover. He looked up and frowned.

"I know this book from my time at his academy," Michiko answered the unspoken question. "I read it in the past myself. It's a copy of Headmaster Azuke's personal primer on Adept Defence. It describes how to defend against magical attacks. Particularly, it teaches you the meta-technic of Shrouding." She thought about it for a moment, before she continued. "I would have waited a bit longer to teach you those technics, but apparently he believes you to be ready for this… or that you'll need this."

Harry noticed how worried she suddenly looked and hugged her, saying nothing. She understood him without words. He would be careful.

.

The last two presents had been big surprises but very welcome ones.

Alice Longbottom had gotten through with her idea of ordering a very unique wand for Harry. With Paul's help she got a piece of wood from an old Canadian fir. And thanks to Jenny she got some hair from Floe as well. The wand hummed in Harry's hand and he was eager to try it out.

"Tomorrow," Remus stopped him. "We'll test the wand tomorrow, together."

Harry rolled his eyes but nodded. With his limited experience about the use of wands, it was certainly better to have Remus around – and perhaps Martin as well. He twirled the wand in his hand. Perhaps Martin would even be able to add a couple of shamanistic runes, just like on his wand.

Unpacking the other one had actually stunned Remus by surprise.

"That's… that's your father's cloak."

Harry blinked. "My father's…?" The fabric was incredible soft, even more than original Chinese silk. He could feel the magic in the cloak, there but hidden as if someone had woven it back to hide it even from Scrying. Jenny and Michiko were able to confirm his guess. "It has a kind of chameleon effect," Michiko acknowledged. "It's not only to hide the wearer and the cloak from vision but also to protect it against magical detection. I can only guess but I suppose normal spells, even those to penetrate lesser illusions, would be deflected by this magic."

Remus nodded slowly. "Only Headmaster Dumbledore had ever been able to see through the cloak's camouflage. It makes the wearer invisible – and every other person hiding there as well." His smile told his family enough. They guessed there had been more than one opportunity with little Remus hiding under that cloak as well.

"What about Professor Moody and his magical eye?" Jenny wondered loudly. She hated that eye, not completely trusting Moody not to use it in an indecent way.

Remus thought about it and agreed with her guess. "Certainly possible, Moody is a paranoid one. I would expect him to get the best detection spells possible constructed into his eye. And you got the cloak from Michael?"

Harry nodded, putting down the cloak for now. He already had abilities that allowed similar if weaker camouflage. In the long run, he hoped, there wouldn't be any need for him to use such an artefact. Still, with this cloak being a family heirloom it was a nice thought of Michael to send it. "According to his note, Headmaster Dumbledore bestowed it to him on Christmas in his first school year. He used it in some of his adventures but wanted to return it now."

"It's a family heirloom," Remus urged, noticing Harry's thoughtful look.

The teenager frowned. "I know. Still …"

Jenny understood without words and gave him a one-armed hug. "You and I don't really need it, but Michael could use a bit more magical help this year."

"You can't honestly think about giving up James' cloak?" Remus was shocked. "It's a Potter heirloom."

Harry's face hardened. "Michael is a Potter as well, Dumbledore made sure of that. In a way we're brothers now." Remus pulled back, unable to contradict that statement. "And in case you've forgotten," Harry's voice had a cold edge now. "I'm not a Potter anymore. I'm a Howell-Evans now and proud of that."

Remus had the dignity to blush at the scolding. "You're right," he mumbled."

Michiko linked arms with him to lessen the tension. She found a solution for both as well. "You could lean the cloak to Michael for now. Perhaps it will help to protect him. And at the end of the year you can still find another long-term solution."

"When he is safe again," Harry agreed.

"When he is safe again," Michiko confirmed.

"And until then, perhaps we'll be able to solve the riddle about his real identity as well," Jenny added. _There was that as well_. "Ginny is working on that part with Michael." Not that Harry liked the idea of having Ginny around Michael, but perhaps she would find something they had overlooked.

"So loaning it, it is," Harry decided. _Happy Christmas, Michael, wish you the best_.

.

 _ **Shell Cottage – next morning**_

.

The Christmas decoration of the house was certainly unusual, but Michael liked it that way. There were more traditional socks, angels and Christmas bulbs, a parting gift of Molly Weasley when Bill moved into his own house. A couple of tiny faeries were lazily working their little wings, an incredible spellwork performed by the Twins – and decursed by Bill not to leave behind their cheese-smelling glitter dust anymore. Charlie brought some things from Rumania and Bill from his time in Egypt. Even Percy brought back something from Scandinavia, a trio of singing winter gnome figurines. He had been there for a few days last summer in preparation of Durmstrang's tournament participation.

There was even a chain of lights, the kind Muggles used. Arthur somehow obtained them and bestowed them to Bill after Molly forbad them in the Burrow. Arthur even got them working with magic somehow, a fact that impressed Bill. It were moments like these when he wondered about the real intellect and talent of his father and what he would have been able to do in a different working position. Many people mocked Arthur, both for his interest in Muggle things and his lack of real knowledge about them. He more often than not still misspelled the word electricity. On the other hand, he had to be very bright. Crafting a flying car that could turn invisible was no mean feat. And everything was self-educated, certainly resulting in many errors and misunderstandings. _He really needs someone to speak to him about Muggle technology_ , Bill mused. Hopefully, the present Arthur got from Bill, Charlie and Michael would help him a bit. Michael had told him about that "technic for dummies" book-line, something he had learned in turn from Luna of all people. They certainly looked quite interesting and the brothers had bought a second collection for their own use.

Michael left the house and trudged through the snow to his usual place, a bench overlooking the seaside. It was calm, clear and quite cold despite the thick cloak, but he liked it this way. It was peaceful. _Christmas at the Burrow wouldn't be this peaceful_ , Michael mused. Ginny would have kept badgering him about his parents. Ron would have sneered in his direction, unable to keep his gob shot and eager to spill all kind of insults and hurtful comments. And Molly? She would have been the worse, ignoring him like she had done since Hallowing by showing him the cold shoulder. He had always been a Daddy's boy, liking Arthur far more than Molly. Arthur allowed him to be a normal boy, without grand demands, without filling his head with stories about what was expected from him. He simply loved him like a son and allowed him to live freely. Molly had rarely behaved like that, but he still missed her. He wanted a mother.

 _But you have one,_ Greg's voice said in his ear. In a way he really had, but for how long? Sooner or later Madam Longbottom would turn towards other students and in three years his time at Hogwarts would end, and with it every contact he had with the friendly and cordial Professor. He breathed deeply with a slight shudder, his face turning into a smile as he remembered her Christmas gift. She got him a book with rituals for familiars, describing all kind of magic to bind one closer to him, protecting it and keeping it healthy by being around him. He liked the thought. It was quite different from the usual "owls are useful" attitude most wizards showed. Hedwig was already quite close to him and he adored her. Michael intended to make good use of those spells.

He looked around, inhaling deeply while listening to the screeching seagulls. At the start of the term, he hadn't expected Christmas to be like this. Three of his brothers had done their best to create some happy moments for him, with Penny assisting them when a female touch was needed. Regretfully, Fleur had to stay with her family, much to Bill's chagrin. Michael had been invited for an afternoon visit with the Patils, a prospect making him tremble a little. Luckily, Charlie would be there as well. He wasn't dating Padma – a decision her parents certainly were thankful about – but they had decided to continue their friendship, despite the distance.

"If you want, we can continue your Patronus lessons," Bill's voice broke through his daydreams. He offered him a mug, hot milk with his daily potion. He got those from Healer Marjenka. She sent him a box with enough potions to last until he returned to Hogwarts. They were meant to prepare him for a spell Madam Pomfrey wanted to use on him, a spell that would hopefully better his eyesight. If everything went well, he wouldn't need his glasses anymore. It would be another step on his way to turn from Harry Potter into Michael Bain.

"Thank you, I would like that." He accepted the mug and started to drink. At the beginning, he had his doubts about him ever learning to cast the Patronus. But with Bill's help and the time he had spent at Shell Cottage, he was slowly getting there. It helped that none of his brothers showed any doubt in his abilities. They believed in him, something that made his heart soar in pride.

 _I won't disappoint you._

.

 _ **Macedonia – a few days later**_

.

"Take it easy, little one. Everything is alright. Nobody is going to hurt you." Greg loosened the tiny but sharp claws from his hand careful not to hurt the little patient. Healer Jannis watched him with a content expression and a small smile on his lips. In the beginning, he had his doubts about allowing the boy to make an internship at the MCH, the Macedonian Creature Hospital. But Paul Masterson had been right: Greg had a real knack for handling animals of all kind. With only a few days of practice under his belt, he was already trusted to assist Healer Jannis in treating the Manticore cubs. And it wasn't an easy duty. They behaved like small cats on a sugar rush: always impatient, always trying to get away. Luckily, their stinger wasn't dangerous, their poison only irritating like formic acid. But they had sharp teeth already and their claws were able to cause small, but hurtful infects. None of it troubled the boy apparently, and he was showing a surprising amount of patience while treating them. In addition, he seemed to really care for the hyperactive creatures.

"Grab the fur in his neck and hold tight. She won't like it, but I don't want to miss the vein." Greg nodded, never lifting his eyes from the cub. His internship had been really unexpected. When his mother told him about "arranging something different for Christmas" he had expected her to send him to some of their relatives in France. The portkey to Macedonia had been a stunning but very welcome surprise. How did she even know Healer Jannis? He had heard about him from Hagrid. Apparently, Healer Jannis was one of the most famous creature healers in Europe, especially respected for his treatment of magical creatures belonging to the Greek mythology circle like Manticores, Hydrae and Cerberi.

"Finished! Well done, Greg." Healer Jannis lauded him. Greg was proud. He knew about the man's initial doubts. Slowly, he had been able to convince him that he was worth his time. This at least he hoped that explained Healer Jannis' friendlier behaviour these days. He watched him as he finished treating the cub. Three others were waiting. No rest for the healer's apprentice. But he wouldn't want it any other way.

.

"He has real knack for this," the elderly woman addressed her companion, calmly watching Greg's progress.

"Yes, he has," the elderly man answered. "Too bad he has barely a talent with the wand." It was no secret he had hoped to meet a boy who could be recruited by their Congregation of the Asp in a couple of years. Even Madam Pomfrey had written them about Greg's devotion, this innermost wish to heal others. It was a rare and worthy trait, something the Congregation was always looking for.

His female companion shrugged. "He will be a fine addition to the Lodge."

The man frowned, but nodded slowly. While the Canadian Lodge of Twelve Oaks and the European Congregation of the Asp had close links and shared many friendships, there was still a friendly competition between them. Both organizations consisted of some of the best magical healers worldwide. Both groups tried to recruit the worthiest and most talented trainees. Still, the most important fact was that there was a boy who would one day be a fine healer as well. "Our loss, their gain!"

.

 _ **Hogwarts – same time**_

.

Argus Filch was sitting in his favourite chair, Mrs Norris on his lap and a cup of hot chocolate in his hand. He was staring at the content of the open box that was resting on the small coffee table. It was a present from Hermione Granger and her friends, and while he knew that they meant well, Argus was still hesitant to accept it.

"What do you think about it, Mrs Norris?" He asked his one true friend. Mrs Norris looked up with her protruding eyes and blinked slowly. "You think I should try it?" She blinked again. Argus nodded slowly and sighed deeply. Hesitantly, he put the mug down. Even more hesitantly, he reached for the wand. His fingers closed around the cool wood as if he expected it to burn. Argus lifted the wand in front of his eyes and examined it carefully. It looked different – different to the wands he had seen the students and teachers use, different to the other wand he got from Miss Granger and Miss Lovegood the year before. It felt like a friend somehow, a slightly wary friend, not yet willing to trust him completely and ready to back away should he misbehave. Was a wand meant to feel like that? He didn't know. The other wand had been cold, nearly lifeless in his hand. It barely emitted any sparks and Argus had been unable to get it do more than recharge his runes or lift tiny objects with cold sweet of exhaustion on his forehead. All of this despite Ollivander's assurance that it was the wand most suitable to his magical aura. It had been a sweet gesture of the girls but an utter failure nonetheless – a very disappointing and depressing failure.

"Shall we try something?" Another blink of Mrs Norris made him point the wand at one of the cookies on the small dish. "Wingiardum Leviosa," he whispered, expecting nothing to happen or at best to have it raise a couple of inches with him feeling the exertion like he did in the past. Instead, the cookie slowly raised into the air, first slowly, then a little faster. There was a drain, he noticed, but far less than he expected. The cookie stopped around a foot high and started to wobble. Argus tried to stabilize it but the cookie didn't follow his wishes and dropped down again. Still, it was better than any result in the past and with less exhaustion to add. With wonder in his eyes, Argus stared at the wand. "I'm a wizard," he whispered hoarsely. "I'm a real wizard, Mrs Norris."

.

 _ **Far away at the same time**_

"Do you think Mr Filch liked the wand?" Hermione asked Luna with no small amount of trepidation in her voice. While she still didn't like him all too much, she really wanted to help him. They both were cat-people and Crooks had found a surprising friend in Mrs Norris. The lacklustre result of the first wand had disappointed her, so she had jumped at the chance to try something different. The new wand was the result of some teamwork between her, Luna, Harry and Paul. Together they had created a wand unlike any other used at Hogwarts. The core was a wisp of hair from Mrs Norris. While not a Kneazle, Paul had noticed how much her long stay at Hogwarts had changed her, ingraining some of its magic into her fur. Luna somehow got a piece of wood from the Whomping Willow and Harry followed Hermione's instructions in how to create the wand, book-reading for the win. A couple of runes, carved by Hermione, and a finishing ritual cast by Paul later – e voila: he got a new wand.

"He will," Luna answered without her usual dreaminess. She knew how much it troubled her sister not to know Mr Filch's reaction until their return after New Year.

"Okay," Hermione didn't doubt Luna one second. She sighed. "Now he only has to change his temper a bit." Paul had told her about his conversation with the Caretaker. The wand wanted to serve and protect, expecting his wearer to do the same. School and students had to come first for its magic to work at its fullest. Until Argus Filch accepted that – and changed his attitude accordingly – the wand would treat him like a foreigner, obeying but always reserved.

"We have to wait and see," Luna commented. She tossed a pair of socks into Hermione's face. "Now keep packing." Hermione rolled her eyes but obeyed. Canada was waiting.

.

 _ **British Columbia – Home of the Howells – 30**_ _ **th**_ _ **of December**_

.

Michiko watched her son with a knowing smile. Harry tried to stay calm, but was barely able to keep his feet from skipping as they walked towards Paul's cave. Their Shaman friend had offered to pick up the girls via Dreamwalk, to Luna's endless joy and to ascertain their privacy. There were simply too many people interested in learning their home address. Until yesterday, Harry hadn't even known about the arrangement. Remus and Michiko assumed it had been better this way and Harry's behaviour only proved them right. Jenny rolled her eyes good-naturedly, but Floe at least seemed to share Harry's enthusiasm. The huge dog was jumping around through the snow, eager to meet the girls – and Crooks - again.

"Luna," Harry nearly screamed. "Err, hi Hermione," he added like an afterthought.

Now it was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes. "Don't worry. I know who is important around here." She didn't seem to care very much and whispered to Luna, who was skipping as well and had a thousand watt smile on her face: "What are you waiting for?" A second later the small girl tackled her boyfriend to the snowy ground with a wild "Harry" battle-scream. Floe joined them on the ground while friends and family watched them with indulgent smiles.

"Everything alright?" Remus asked in Paul's direction.

The Shaman nodded: "An uneventful journey." His eyes flittered to Luna without words. So, not another meeting with her mother this time. Hopefully, the return would be the same.

.

They had met a couple of friends from the village and Harry's school, some eager to meet the girls and hear about Scotland, while a couple of girls glared at Luna to Jenny's endless amusement – especially because neither Luna nor Harry seemed to notice the jealousy or cared about it. Marian had been more than willing to tease the young couple, with neither Jenny nor Marian's cousin Malcolm willing to stop her. But now it was time to meet Martin Legrange. The French-Canadian wanted to speak with the girls about the invitation to join Harry's school after the summer break.

"As you know, Harry is going to the school at Vancouver. It is a school for shamanic magic with a small extra curriculum for adepts like Jenny. Because the students vary so much in their choice of topics, it's not like a standard school, especially for the older students. We try to allow every student as much diversity as he wishes to have. Naturally, we have basic classes as well both Mundane and Magical, but barely two students have the same schedule. Harry is a prime example of that. With the both of you having learnt wand magic in the past, we'll have to find a way for you to visit both Harry's school and the sister college in Victoria."

"Victoria is the Capitol of British Columbia, right?" Trust Hermione to read up everything about Harry's home.

Martin nodded. "Correct; it was founded as a trading post of the Hudson Bay Company. Nowadays, it is a medium sized city with around 90,000 inhabitants. Because of its roots, it has one of the oldest among only a few wand magic colleges in the Western part of Canada. They already accepted my enquiry about the both of you joining them." He fetched a pair of folders from his bag and pushed them towards the girls. "Read them carefully. Harry and Jenny will certainly be able to help you with any questions you my have, but I'm accessible as well, via Paul after your return to Scotland." He looked thoughtful for a moment. "I hope you'll accept the invitation. I think we have much to offer each other."

Hermione glanced towards Luna and Harry who had barely heard a word from the exchange. She showed a small smile. "I think there is no doubt about it."

.

 _ **The next day – going on midnight**_

Harry felt a little bad about how much he enjoyed the time he was able to spend with the girls; bad mostly, because Michael and Greg weren't there. At least both boys would have an interesting and nice week as well, or so he hoped. Michael was with Charlie and Bill, while Paul had help arrange an internship for Greg. He glanced to the clock, an old family heirloom Remus had brought with him more than a decade ago. It was nearly time for the New Year ritual. Would The Wolf be there, reasserting their bond for the next year and promising his support in the coming trials? Harry hoped so. And perhaps The Raccoon would be there as well. It often made an appearance on such occasions, its bond with Jenny nearly as strong as his to The Wolf.

Speaking of bonds and spirits: Harry's face split into a happy smile as the small, bright creature went for another spin through the room. Luna hadn't seen his new friend so far. He was anxious to watch her reaction. With Remus' help he had been training on the Patronus spell. Remus was a good trainer in Harry's eyes, knowing him well enough to further his progress until the teenager was able to cast the spell with his wand and even produce a fine silvery mist. Professor Flitwick had wanted him to wait with that part until the friends returned to Hogwarts, but after a Floo call from Remus the teacher had agreed to allow a couple of tries as long as Harry only attempted the spell under Remus' watchful eyes. The Charms Master apparently trusted his father's competence and rightly so.

Remus had hinted at Flitwick's part in his mother's preparations before that fateful Halloween. Harry wasn't certain what exactly the small professor had done back then, what he had known about the events, but that was a topic for later times. It wasn't relevant right now. He only needed to know that his birth mother had trusted him and he could as well. It was good to have an ally at Hogwarts, more so as he didn't trust the Headmaster all that much.

The small spirit light stopped and hovered in front of his eyes, the tiny wings flapping lazily. It didn't really need them, as far as Harry knew. Mostly, it seemed to move through the air like it was swimming. Its aura permeated the room, distributing a feeling of hope and love. He had read about it, but to feel it was a different matter. Harry had expected it to have the appearance of a wolf. It was like that with most wizards, Remus had told him. His Patronus was close to his Werewolf form and with James Potter the Patronus had shared the appearance of his Animagus form. But while Harry was close to The Wolf and had no doubt about his Animagus form turning out to be the same, his Patronus was quite different.

Harry sighed and fondled Jerry's chin. His watcher had acted surprisingly jealous, watching this new addition to their small family with suspicion. Yes, Harry still had trouble to conjure his Patronus with his wand. Didn't mean didn't have other ways to get the result. While his wand still only produced the mist – in between even taking the form of a small shield but miles away from taking a corporal form – the same didn't count for his shamanic summoning. The small creature of light had jumped into existence on his first try, stunning everyone.

The tiny wings flapped again. Harry smiled. No, this certainly was no wolf, far from it. But he had no doubt: Luna would be flattered and Hermione amused. "Let's go, little one, show you to the girls."


	19. Chapter 19 Return to Hogwarts

**Returning to Hogwarts**

 **.**

 _ **Charms Classroom – Second week of January**_

.

"I have to admit I'm impressed by your progress."

Professor Flitwick smiled proudly. They had met this afternoon for the first time since their return from the winter break, and nobody would have guessed how fast the quartet of friends had progressed with their training of the Patronus Spell. Well, quintet actually, as Luna had joined them in her very own and unique way. Harry remembered it with fondness. As expected, Luna had been so happy – ecstatic really - about the form of his corporal Patronus that she was even able to cast the spell herself. Nobody had been more shocked than the quirky blonde at the small figure shooting out of her wand on her very first attempt. It certainly hadn't been the result of that "calm inner happiness" Professor Flitwick had been ranting about. In Luna's case, it had been more like earth shattering, hair-splitting and scream-to-heavens joy. Her friends convinced that Luna would be – as usual - the exception from the rule hadn't been surprised.

Hermione sighed, feeling a little jealous as she watched the pair of Patroni circling around. While the exact nature of Harry's Patronus was still a matter of speculation; Luna was sure it was a Crumple-Horned Snorkack but as nobody except her had ever seen one… They had been told by Jenny that Luna's Patronus was a Nargle. According to her, it looked exactly like those tiny creatures of spirit and light that were always circling around Luna's head.

"He's still your best friend, you know?" Hermione whispered to Jerry. The Watcher Squirrel was sitting on her shoulder, weightless but still tangible, glaring at Harry's Patronus. Jerry chirped, a tad less unhappy. "Harry trusts you to keep Luna safe during the next task, there's no bigger proof of how much he cares for you." Jerry's second chirp sounded a lot happier. Hermione was certain: Jerry would sooner accept destruction than disappoint Harry and Luna.

Hermione, however, sighed again and concentrated on the happy feeling she needed to make this spell work. In the end, she knew what was stopping both her and Michael: the both of them still had too many self-doubts and didn't trust their own abilities as much as was necessary for this task. At least, they were able to cast the spell correctly and produce some kind of shield. It was a bit swirly at the edges but recognisable. Michael had to take a break now and then, his core still not fully recovered from his near-mortal injury in November. He was currently helping Parvati. The Indian girl didn't want to be outdone by the others and had started to accompany them. Hermione had been surprised by the girl's progress so far, but in the end, Parvati was bright and sharp like her sister Padma. She only used her brain for different things, had other interests and a more outgoing temper. She wasn't the dumb twin or the blonde bimbo of her family by any account. So far, she was only able to produce a bit of light looking like a sparkler and a small cloud of fog, but she was getting better as well.

"If you keep up with the training and your mutual support, I have no doubt that all of you will be able to produce a corporeal Patronus before Easter," Professor Flitwick announced. Hermione really hoped he was right. If she only knew what her Patronus would look like.

.

"I still have trouble to cast the spell with my wand," Harry explained a bit later.

"I see you started to use the wand Madam Longbottom got you," Professor Flitwick pointed at the Fir/Floe-hair wand in Harry's hand.

The teenager nodded. "Yes, I have been content with my old one, but this wand feels even better, like a friend. My magic flows easier through the wand and with less compulsion on my part like it accepts the wand as a part of my body, an extension of my arm and not a different object."

"Sounds like a perfect match to me," Professor Flitwick responded happily. "That's quite rare. Your mother…" He stopped hesitating to speak about Lily Evans.

Harry blinked. His voice was a bit hoarse as he asked. "It was the same with my birth mother?"

Professor Flitwick took a deep, shuddering breath. "Yes, she got it in her third year. Her old one wasn't working really well for her, so I accompanied her to a friend of mine, a wand-crafter in Wales. He is using many materials that Ollivander frowns about. In your mother's case, it was wood from the Cynog Yew, one of the oldest trees in Wales, and a strand of hair taken willingly from a Nereid. Your mother agreed to give a bit of her own blood as well, something Ollivander would never do. In the end, her wand was a perfect match for her, and it improved her incredulous talent at Charms even more."

Harry smiled, trying to imagine his mother casting spells, sitting in Professor Flitwick's class. "Do you know what happened to this wand?" With his mother's blood being part of the wand, perhaps he could handle it, use it to strengthen his connection to the woman he couldn't really remember.

Filius sighed. "I fear it was destroyed on that fateful night. The ritual we prepared for your protection needed it as its focus. The ritual apparently worked, protecting you as you are still alive, but the strain would have been too much for the wand. But its remains may have been found. They should be in your family's vault, but you would have to ask the Headmaster about it."

Harry hadn't been in the Potter vault so far and actually had no intention doing so in the foreseeable future. He still felt not like a Potter and in his eyes, it wasn't right to behave like one, not with his heart-parents being Remus and Michiko. Perhaps, this would change one day. Perhaps, he would have two sets of parents then.

"I'll do that." _Later!_

.

 _ **Paul's shack – a few days later**_

.

"Healer Jannis wrote me about your internship," Paul said lightly as he poured his guest a cup of tea.

"Oh?" Greg nodded his thanks. He had actually come to relish Turkish Mocha, a beverage one of Healer Jannis' colleagues had introduced a while ago at the Macedonian Hospital. One of the nurses promised to send him a care package with a couple of bags occasionally, but for now, he had to stay with the tea. "What did he say?" Greg tried, not very successfully, to sound like he didn't really care. He blushed as he noticed Paul see through his façade and smirk a little.

"He was very content with your work and praised your talent and work ethics." Greg's blush deepened. "Both he and his superior said you have the makings of a real healer." Paul stared the teenager in the eye for a moment. "And I agree with them."

Greg gulped, speechless for a moment. "I… thank you." He had really liked his stay at the Hospital, and the time there had only deepened his wish to become a healer one day.

"You should thank your mother. She arranged it. I only offered advice and connected her with the hospital."

Greg smiled his eyes a little teary as he thought about his mum. "I will."

"She's a magnificent woman and mother," Paul had been really impressed by her. He may have been a bear shaman for the greater part of his life, but Abigail Goyle was the epitome of a bear mother come true.

"That she is," Greg agreed, smiling proudly. _That she really is._

.

 _ **Somewhere in the Forbidden Forest – Third week of January**_

.

Michael was sitting on a branch, hidden under the Invisibility Cloak, searching for any signs that would betray his friends' presence. The smile hadn't left his face since the ritual to heal his eyes two weeks ago. _I don't need my spectacles anymore._ He was happy and thankful. Healer Marjenka was the best. She even undertook the effort to visit him and perform the spell herself. Madam Pomfrey had been an avid spectator but Michael had the impressed she was relieved as well not to be the one responsible for it.

They were playing hide-and-seek, giving a shot at their very different approaches of vanishing into thin air. As Harry loaned the Potter cloak back to him, Michael was playing around with its advantages and drawbacks, the most serious one being that it didn't hide his smell, sound or foot traces. One by one, he had learned to get around those drawbacks, charms hiding him even better than this incredible cloak would be able on his own. He still couldn't believe that Harry had been willing to part with the heirloom, even if temporarily. Family heirlooms were important. He was confident that Harry felt the same about the cloak, one of the few things left to him by his father. It filled his heart with pride that he was even more important to Harry. He was a real friend.

The decision to conduct this training had surprised him in the beginning, but in a way it made sense. Someone was out there to get them, Harry more than him. Their friends were in danger as well. Every time he thought about it, he had to remember Hermione's words: "it's Parvati's decision. She's clever. She knows about the danger, but she decided that you're more important to her. Don't belittle her decision; don't try to take that away from her." And he didn't. Harry had told him the same. As teenagers, it was vital for them to have to have a chance at avoiding conflicts, to be able to get away in case of an attack. Flee to fight another day, that wasn't the Gryffindor way but the sensible one.

Michael glanced around: Nothing to see, not that he had expected otherwise. Actually, so far he had only been able to detect Hermione a few times and Harry once and that one time just because Luna had distracted his friend. Parvati had stayed with Paul this time, her Charms not strong enough to hide her successfully for long. Hermione was using more traditional means to hide her body, a couple of charms like Michael – she had actually been the one teaching those to him – but arranging them around a competently cast Disillusion Charm. She was quite good at those, but still no match for the siblings.

Harry and Jenny, on the other hand, were using Adept techniques. The Way of the Hunter apparently was being in full use among their people, and Jenny had already started to use it five years ago, with Harry following a bit later. Michiko gave them a couple of tips while they were at Canada over Christmas, Harry had told him, and now they were making good use of it. And Luna used… actually, Michael had no idea how Luna was able to vanish from sight. Paul apparently had a hunch about the source of her incredible abilities but didn't spill the beans, not even to Harry who was just happy to know that Luna would be safe in case of an ambush. Whatever the reason, her hiding ability was incredible, and so far Michael hadn't been able to spot her. Luckily, she often became visible again because a beautiful snow flower, a cute hare in the snow or some other fancy something or someone distracted her.

"Got you," Harry suddenly whispered into his ear. Michael flinched and nearly toppled from his branch if not for Harry steadying him. _Merlin's ball_ , Michael frowned, _how has he been able to climb the tree without me noticing?_ His eyes widened as he discovered Harry's position. He was dangling headlong from a higher branch, somehow sticking to the wood with his bare feet. _Doesn't he feel the cold?_ Michael mused. He loved magic and still preferred wand magic, liked the exactness of the motions and incantations. But sometimes he was a bit jealous of what Harry was able to do thanks to his Adept Powers. _And to think that Jenny is far ahead of him, not to speak of his mother_ ; he shuddered.

Michael frowned. "I really thought my spells hid me completely this time."

"They did," Harry grinned. "But I was able to see the magical traces of your spells."

Michael's frown deepened. It was one of the drawbacks of using hiding charms like he did. While his Homenum Revelio and similar spells could penetrate most hiding charms, they weren't able to unveil the Shroud Harry and Jenny hid with. Regretfully, the same couldn't be said about their Awareness. While it had stunned and surprised the siblings to learn that the Potter cloak was protected not only against detection charms but their Awareness technique as well, they swiftly learned how to detect the traces of the charm he used to hide his footprints. For them, it was like a rivulet of magical energies leading straight to his hiding place.

The teenagers whirled around as a wild scream of victory announced that Luna had been able to win against Jenny – again. Apart from Harry, she was the only one having a chance at that.

"How's the count so far?" Michael asked.

"Five to three… in Luna's favour," Harry responded, not looking happy at the prospect of having to go Luna-hunting now. He only hoped never to have to go against an enemy with her talents.

.

"Let's take a break," Paul stopped their training a bit later. Hermione rolled her eyes at Luna's haughty grin. She had won the game more often than anybody else, even Jenny. It was nice to see her so carefree and happy. Harry's presence is really doing her a world of good, she mused. But now, they all were a bit chilled and could use some hot chocolate. The Shaman had anticipated their need, and they were feeling better when he let them to their next training session one hour later. Harry's eyes widened as he noticed the other teacher already waiting for them in the training room. Professor Moody was already an impressive sight on his best days. With his face grim like today, eager to put them through the worst training he was able to think of, he was genuinely frightening. Luckily he started slow and with a bit of talk instead of throwing hexes at them as soon as they crossed the door. He had done exactly that more than once.

"You're quite good at hiding and avoiding combat, but sometimes you have to stay and fight. We'll continue with a bit of duelling. But first, I would like to see what you learned from that book Howell told me about. As far as I understand it, you're able to use the Shroud not only to hide but also for defence?"

Harry nodded. "It's something Mum originally wanted to teach me next year. You have to be an Adept and already have undergone the first power ritual to use it like this." He raised his right arm and showed them his wristband. "Usually, I would have to wait longer before being allowed to take part in such a ritual, but Paul helped me through it to empower my healing leather-band."

"Such a powerful ritual," Paul continued the explanation, "takes place in the Dreamworld. It is a place known to both Shamans and Adepts, but foreign to wand users these days. I assume, it has been different in the far past, but somehow the knowledge was forgotten over the centuries. It's a place full of strange magic, and you have to be able to shield yourself from it." He glanced to the girls that had accompanied them a few weeks ago. "Back then, I was the one shielding you. It's something I will have to teach you as well should we repeat the experience." Both girls beamed at him, Luna at the prospect of revisiting the Dreamland and Hermione because she would be able to learn something new. "This shielding from the Dreamland is the first step of learning how to handle the Shroud. Older and experienced Shamans are able to do it for defence reasons as well, but Adepts are really… adept at it." He smiled thinly at the weak pun.

"So, Howell is able to shield himself from magic, be it from surrounding one or a magical attack?" Moody asked. He still had to remind himself not to call the boy Potter, unlike Albus who kept doing it during their talks.

"Harry and Jenny, yes," Paul nodded. Moody narrowed his eyes as he stared at the girl. It was difficult to accept that a Squib – and in his eyes, she was something like that irrespective of the theory of magical indices – should be able to deflect a spell. Time to test it!

Jenny was already on the move as he let fly the first of a couple of light jinxes and hexes, nothing more severe than a stinging hex. They would be painful but feeling pain made the best training experience in his eyes. Jenny dodged the first spell, jumped over the second and used her Shroud to defend against the third while starting to advance towards Moody, a vicious smile on her lips. Moody noticed how the Shroud reacted to the stinging hex. It wasn't like a Protego like Harry produced against the Dragon. No, this was more like a surface of water that deflected the spell just like light broke when hitting the water. It fizzled away, changed its direction and hit the next wall.

Knowing he wouldn't be able to outrun the girl, he decided to even the game. With a swish of his wand, he turned the stone floor into a swamp covered in thick mud that hindered the girl's advance. She stopped her charge, flabbergasted. It took her a second too long. A pair of hexes hit her, the second penetrating the Shroud. Jenny hissed, knowing that a severe spell would have ended the fight right now. Never thinking about giving up, Jenny growled and dodged the next spell while trusting her Shroud to take care of another grazing hit as she jumped straight in the air. Even Moody was stunned to watch her rise higher and higher into the air. Hastily, he cast another stinging hex only to miss the young woman as she twisted her body until her feet reached the ceiling. Like a spider she stuck to the stone and started running, changing her Shroud into a hiding veil.

Moody smirked and activated the unique function of his eye. While he wasn't able to fully penetrate her camouflage, at least the outline of her body become visible like from a heat-seeker camera. Following her with his eyes, he already had a spell on his lips when Jenny noticed what was happening. She let go of the ceiling and started falling to the ground, the spell missing her completely. Twisting her body again, she landed on the floor, straight in the mud, only barely touched this time as she mimicked a water strider. Still, it was enough to leave small impressions in the clay, something that allowed Moody to deactivate his eye and even detect where Jenny was. He did it just in time not to be blinded by an impulse of magic Jenny directed towards his face. It was a variant of the Ki Fist attack used by Harry against the Dragon's eye.

Charging the former Auror, Jenny twisted and tumbled to avoid a couple of spells. As she got closer, she had less and less time to react but still avoided them if barely. For a few seconds, they danced a deadly ballet with Moody trying to hit her and Jenny working to disarm her foe or put him into a position where he was unable to avoid her attacks. Moody proved more than enough how much he had learned about dirty infighting and Muggle hand-to-hand combat, with him even kicking mud into Jenny's face while deflecting her attacks with his strong arms. With most other opponents this would have worked but not with Jenny. Ignoring her hindered eyesight, she trusted her ears and magical senses to dodge the next spell, whirled around and disarm-kicked her opponent. Harry and his friends gasped. For a moment it looked like Jenny would actually win the fight. However, as she closed in for the kill, she was blasted back by a stunner from Moody's other hand.

For a moment, everyone was silent, with only Jenny groaning on the floor. Moody swished his wand – his second wand – to get back the main one. He nodded curtly to the girl on the ground. "Not a complete disaster; you have potential."

Harry had a terrible feeling that he would have to work his arse off to get the same compliment.

.

 _ **Same time – Gryffindor girls' dorm**_

 _Ginny_ was sitting on her bed, curtains closed around her to give her some privacy. Tom needed peace and quiet for some serious thinking, not idle chatter and girls' talk about boys, makeup charms and the newest fashion. A piece of parchment was resting in front of him - a present from his servant Pettigrew – while a couple of books formed a circle around the girl's body. Most of them belonged to the library's forbidden section – taken without the knowledge of Madam Pince, naturally. It wouldn't do to have her running to Headmaster Dumbledore about Ginny Weasley's sudden interest in dark potioneering. Ginny's finger followed the written lines. Tom went through the words as meticulous as he had done for the other dozen times.

As ordered, Pettigrew in the body of Lord Black had been able to convince one of the healers from St. Mungo's to part with this. The healer had specialised on very wealthy patients with smaller or more significant problems regarding their physique. In the world of Muggles, he would have called himself a cosmetic surgeon. Sometimes his magic wasn't enough. Sometimes an accident or curse disfigured a witch or wizard too much for a traditional healing spell to work. In cases like that, this special potion was one way to still help them. Only the availability of the components – and the wealth of the patient – limited its usage. Like Polyjuice potion it changed the appearance. Not into a different person but the person the patient would have been without magic messing with their body. It sounded useful for his task, and he had to try it at least, but he wanted to make the attempt count.

Because of this, Tom was mostly interested in the limitations of the potion. He found a couple of curses mentioned that couldn't be overcome by its' effect. While blood adoption wasn't mentioned, Tom feared it to would be a problem too. He had to send Pettigrew back to the healer, specifically asking him about it carefully, very carefully. He trusted Pettigrew to do this job without raising unwanted suspicions. The rat Animagus was quite accomplished at being tricky.

 _The beginning of spring_ , Tom mused. That would be a good day for brewing this potion. _Perhaps I can find something to strengthen its effect, but the day itself has to be meaningful as well_. He nodded slowly, liking his idea more with every passing thought. _The 20th of March – I'll brew it on that day_. Perhaps in the meadow the shaman was using for his classes. Michael had told Ginny about its aura of life magic. It would strengthen the potion even more.

 _So, I need to send Pettigrew to gather components and prepare the brewing_ , Tom mused. His innocent face changed into a cruel smirk. _Easter will be on the 16th of April. Before that day comes, you'll be out of your office, Albus. You may have won the first battle fourteen years ago, but I will win this war._

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Former Summoning Classroom**_

.

Harry had hardly to concentrate on feeling his skin tingle from the magic surrounding him. This was old, very old. The room had been deserted for a long time. More than half a century ago, Armando Dippet, the predecessor of Albus Dumbledore as the Headmaster of Hogwarts, had decided to close the traditional summoning classes. The interest in summoning Elementals of all kind had never been active in Europe, as it was more of an art of the Arabic Wizards, and the summoning of Ghosts had long been forbidden outside of a few, very carefully monitored and heavily regulated exceptions. Both Harry and Paul, however, had sensed the room's presence on their first day. It was like a bonfire to them, its unique brand of magic flaring like a flood of light illuminating the place. Someone had taken great care in the past to prepare the room for its intended task, to gather the right kind of crystals and metals, and had calculated how to arrange everything to produce the most significant effect.

Paul had been using the room for his watcher training sessions for a while now. The class was held for the small number of students willing and talented enough to try their hand at that extraordinary brand of magic. Among the teachers, only Madam Sprout and Madam Pomfrey had been able to get any results, but even they had their problems with the summoning part. Paul had chosen the room as the location for his lessons, because it both simplified the summoning itself as it lessened the magical strain, and helped to contain any mishaps should they happen. Today he had entered with Harry and Luna in tow. Neither Michael nor Hermione had any talent for the subject, regretfully, both being a bit envious that Paul expected Parvati to get better at this art after a few more training sessions. She had already been able to bring forth a tiny watcher that lasted for a few seconds before dissolving again. It had been too nebulous to discern its form, but it was a start.

Luna, however, was once again an exception. She had talent, real talent at the art of summoning. This became clear from the start. Only her younger and weaker core made Paul forbid her to attempt summoning outside the classroom. Within this room, she was already an accomplished watcher handler, able to call many different watchers to her side. They were of the weakest kind, but entirely corporal and fully functional most of the time, if pouring tea and dancing with Luna could be called a real function. Even more interesting was that she shared Harry's spirit tongue talent. Spirits and Ghosts seemed to like her even more than him. A bit too much, in Paul's opinion, as they often behaved – or better misbehaved – like little children around her. She had already called Myrtle a couple of times, and the girl ghost had been more than happy to follow her call if initially a tad wary of their intent.

Harry had been there on those days as well, silently watching how the girl and the ghost interacted. He had always been rooted in thoughts, his expression like he was about to decide something world-changing. _In a way he was_ , Paul mused. Back in Canada, there had been some long and serious talks about this young ghost – young both in ghost terms and emotional maturity, as Myrtle had still not really grown up since her premature death fifty years ago. The theme of those talks had always been the same: whether or not to end Myrtle's time as a ghost at Hogwarts. Harry wanted to exorcise her, and his teacher agreed in principle. But at the same time, he asked for Harry not to act hastily. He had to get to know her first. Why did she become a ghost? What was keeping her at Hogwarts? Did she actually wish to go on? Harry hoped that it had only been the Basilisk's existence that held her back, that his death 18 months ago had changed this. However, he wasn't entirely sure about it. And he had to make a decision before the First of May. Walpurgis Night! While Halloween was a night to remember the spirits of old, so was Walpurgis diametrically across not only on the calendar but also the meaning. It was the night of the future, of making decisions and making pacts. It could become the night Myrtle found peace at last. The decision was weighing heavily on the boy. _He'll make the right decision_ , Paul thought with a proud smile.

Today, however, it was about another ghost, a ghost that was very different to Myrtle and far older, and with a fate equally sinister if not even more so. Today it was about the Grey Lady.

.

 _ **A wee bit later**_

" _In my life, I was known as Helena Ravenclaw. Rowena Ravenclaw was my mother."_

Meeting the Grey Lady and having a decent conversation with her had been a stunning experience. Hearing her real name and even better the name of her mother had been an utter shock. Luna had told Harry before how she had met the Grey Lady for the first time long ago.

"It was in my first year before Hermione become my friend. I was completely alone, nobody liked me, and I dearly missed my mum. The Grey Lady was there for me. Most of the time she was silent, but her presence alone was comforting. Somehow, she always found me when I needed her most. She only drew back as my friendship with Hermione grew. She noticed that others needed her more now than I did. But she still visited me from time to time."

But even Luna hadn't known her real name – until now. The conversation had been a weird one, with Paul mostly staying silent and Luna gently prodding the ghost to tell her history: How her life had been as the daughter of Rowena Ravenclaw. About growing up, getting more and more jealous of her mother's intellect, talent and fame with every passing year. How Helena had tried to outdo her mother, to get her approval and appreciation. How she always failed short unbeknownst to her own intelligent and talented.

"And then I made that fateful decision. I thought that with my mother's diadem I would be able to become the witch she always expected me to be. It was insane, but back then I thought it to be the only possible decision, the only way to finally become a true Ravenclaw. So, I stole the diadem. I regretted that act for every day since then."

Luna had never heard such hurt and sadness in a voice, had rarely felt that bad since her mother died. Paul had to interrupt the conversation as Luna had broken down after that. He had called for Hermione, knowing that the blonde girl needed her right now. The Grey Lady departed, but somehow she seemed lighter as if it had helped her to talk about it and witness the compassion of the young 'Claw. They had to continue the conversation at a later time, Paul decided. Something had caught his attention, something that had to be concluded.

"…others have duties to fulfil, a reason - often unknown even to them - to stay behind. Some of them have been waiting for centuries for the right moment to accomplish their task. I can feel in my bones that one such hour is very close, close enough that you may even get to experience it." Those had been Matron Mathilda's words before Christmas. He had the strong feeling that she had been speaking about Helena Ravenclaw. _What is your secret? What is the task you have to accomplish? And how may we help you?_

Answers left unanswered for now, but hopefully not for long.

.

 _ **Shrieking Shack – 10th of February**_

.

Tom looked around with Ginny's eyes. The shack could hardly be called clean not to speak of cosy, but it would have to do. Crouch was already waiting for him with Pettigrew, both eager to serve and hoping for praise and appreciation. They were useful. That didn't mean Tom had to like or even respect them. Pettigrew was a traitor, had even betrayed his best and oldest friends. He couldn't be trusted. Three years ago, he had already betrayed his master once when everything went to hell. If not for the scarcity of appropriate servants, Tom would have killed him for this act alone.

 _These two and Draco Malfoy are all I have_ , Tom mused. He knew this would change in a couple of months, as soon as he would have an acceptable body again. Sometimes he wondered what would happen to his current shell. While he had only chosen Ginny Weasley as his host under duress, he had come to like her body – sometimes at least. Affection? No, he wouldn't go this far, but it wasn't complete disinterest either. Tom's gaze reached out for the duo in front of him. It was apparent they wanted to outdo each other. Pettigrew feared of losing his new position and Crouch… Crouch was like an adoring puppy, eager to please and a bit hyperactive. _I will have to curb him a bit else he will do more damage to my plans than further them_.

"Pettigrew told me you have something planned for the second task," he addressed Crouch.

Barty Crouch Jr squared his shoulders, his face full of pride that his master addressed him directly, asked for his plans. Pettigrew frowned, displeased to yield to his competitor. "Yes, my Lord," he nodded eagerly. "I anticipated that you had plans for Harry Potter, the real one, for later this year."

It was more a question than a statement and Tom had no wish to disclose his exact plans to this man. Pettigrew already knew more than he should, out of necessity. A secret stops being a secret if two men know about it, was the old saying. This counted threefold if a third man got involved. Tom nodded curtly as Crouch continued.

"I intend to do something about the imposter. This Michael Bain, if that is actually his name, he besmirched your name, my Lord, as he pretended to be the boy-who-lived, the boy who…" His words fizzled away as he noticed his master's glare. Tom wasn't amused to be reminded of his defeat, even if it hadn't really been him but his older self. Crouch harrumphed and continued, slightly less eager: "He should pay for his insolence. It also would send a strong sign to Dumbledore. He shall realise that only a fool would try to mess with you, my Lord."

Ginny offered a hint of a smile, which made Crouch relax somewhat. "How do you intend to accomplish this?" He wouldn't really allow Crouch to kill Neville Longbottom, the boy's real name as he was convinced now. He had plans for him. But it didn't hurt to let Crouch explain, and Tom already had an idea how to make good use of his preparations.

.

"Your plans are … acceptable." Tom had listened intently only uttering this sentence after a long while.

Crouch smiled proudly at his master's somewhat bland praise. Pettigrew looked up, noticing that Barty wouldn't like his master's next words.

"But you can't kill the Bain boy." His glare stopped Crouch's complains cold. "At least not now. I have a need for the boy until around Easter. He has to be alive for a few more months."

"I … I see, master." Crouch looked defeated, Pettigrew very pleased. Pleased enough actually to deserve a bit of pain later, just to clarify his place in his master's schemes.

"This doesn't mean your preparations were superfluous. We can actually make good use of them."

"We can?" Crouch looked more hopeful again.

Tom nodded slowly. "Your idea is valid. We don't want to waste your good work. Only the target has to change."

Crouch's eyes lit up. "Who will be the new target?"

"The hostages will be at the Mermen Village on the ground of the lake. Headmaster Dumbledore offered to cast the spells to keep them safe. Should something happen to one of the hostages, it would be a serious blow to his reputation, especially if a girl, younger sister of one of the Champions and daughter of an important French noble, were the victim. I want you to kill Gabrielle Delacour."

Crouch was all morbid eagerness right now, while Pettigrew actually looked a little queasy at the thought of killing the little girl. Perhaps it was because of her age, or he actually found the little Veela cute in her own way. Tom didn't want to overthink about this. There had been a couple of very sick men among his followers. They still had their uses.

"It will happen as you wish," Crouch bowed deeply, his mind already racing how to accomplish the change. He frowned for a moment as something crossed his mind.

"A question?" Tom offered.

"May I approach McNair for his assistance? He has never betrayed you, master. He's working at the Ministry as an executioner for dangerous creatures. His knowledge about Mermen and the other creatures of the lake could be useful."

Tom thought about it. He didn't know McNair personally as he had been a follower of the older Dark Lord. It may be time to enlarge his entourage. "You may, but you'll be responsible for him. His failures are now your failures."

"I understand, master."

"And he doesn't need to know about my presence yet."

"As you wish, my Lord."

"Good, good," Tom was pleased. He narrowed his eyes for a moment. "And Crouch: don't disappoint me. That girl has to die."

"The mortuary can already be prepared," Crouch assured him. Hopefully, he would be proven right.

.

 _ **Hogwarts' Staff meeting room – 14th of February**_

.

"I will have to cut this short, there are still many things to do before the second task," Crouch apologised, vaguely waving towards Percy. "But Weasley will stay and inform me of everything important."

Without another word, his boss left the room, leaving Percy with the rest of the judging panel. At least, he didn't call him Weatherby any longer. For a second, annoyance and a hint of suspicion flickered over Headmaster Dumbledore's face, and his gaze went to Percy. The former Head Boy hastily looked away. Back in his time at Hogwarts, the rumours about the Headmaster using passive Legilimency on unsuspecting students hadn't troubled him all that much – until he had a dire talk with an angry Penny Clearwater. His girlfriend hadn't been amused by the thought of someone freely accessing to pictures of her kissing Percy in her mind. Thoughts had to be private. Not that he could tell Dumbledore anything about his boss' plans. Actually, he had no idea what Crouch was doing all day. Yes, he visited Hogwarts, quite often. However, the day-to-day work was still resting on Percy's shoulders. Not that he was complaining. Not many junior clerks had the opportunity to speak with foreign officials on a daily basis. He had already been in Bulgaria and France a couple of times and was expected to take care of everything during the stay of their Ministers. That had been both a great chance and a heavy duty for him. Luckily he had Penny at his side, both to double-check his work and to ground him back to earth after especially stressful days.

Speaking of Penny: His girlfriend had accompanied him to Hogwarts today. Only she had a different occupation in mind: helping the boys train with their girlfriends. Both Harry and Michael expected for Luna and Parvati to be chosen as their hostages at the second task. Both girls had proclaimed – quite loudly – that they wouldn't back down if asked by the Headmaster. So they had to assure that Luna and Parvati were prepared as best as possible: they had to be able to cast many spells even underwater, most prominently the Oxygen spell but also a small number of protection spells and, if possible, the Bubblehead spell. Harry, on the other hand, intended to continue his training on sensitising his magic. Jerry would help him locate the girls, but he wanted to have other options under his sleeve as well. He knew Luna's aura very well by now, but Parvati's much less so. That's what he wished to change. Michael would have loved to learn this art as well, but it would take too long. He still had troubles with wandless lock picking and cutting charms, something Penny would help him with as well.

Percy sighed. The fourteenth of February was today – Valentine's Day. Harry and his friends had chosen a very different way to celebrate it, but it was somehow equally romantic in his eyes to care this much about your loved ones that you preferred to train them instead of spending the day with drinking tea and snogging. The quartet had decided to make up for the day after the second task. Hopefully, everything would go right, and nobody had to spend weeks in the hospital like Michael did after his run-in with that dragon lady.

Listening to the endless mumbling of the other judges with half an ear, Percy thought about his plans with Penny for the evening. He got a couple of tickets for the theatre and made reservations for a nice Spanish restaurant afterwards. It was a Muggle restaurant Penny loved, and nobody would recognise them there. They wouldn't risk having a chance meeting with one of his colleagues; it would be only the two of them. He wouldn't propose to her tonight, quite sure that Penny wouldn't expect him to. For a lot of wizards, proposing on Valentine's Day was something very romantic. Neither Percy nor Penny shared that opinion. While Percy was still a young man loving his plans very orderly and long-term, with coloured notepads and exact down to the minute, Penny was working on that front, slowly tearing him down with some success, hinting that he was more attractive when spontaneous. She would much prefer a proposal born out of an emotional moment, the sudden and overwhelming urge to have her close to him. And sooner or later that moment would arise, he was sure of it.

"This whole task is asinine, both to choose hostages as the search's objects as the task itself."

 _Shit!_ Percy's eyes widened as he realised what he just said loudly, allowing his tongue to spill what had been on his mind for weeks. The other judges turned around, most of them glaring at him. Only Ludo Bagman looked like he shared Percy's opinion. Percy gulped. There was no way back now.

"The spectators will have to watch the lake for an hour without seeing any of the action. Boring as hell! It will be cold, perhaps rainy. It may even snow. The risk of at least one champions getting a serious cold are quite high. And what about the hostages? Only the one you've chosen for Viktor Krum is of age. And I can't even fathom why one of them is a child."

"We asked them and their parents for their cooperation in the matter and all have agreed," Karkaroff interjected.

Percy rolled his eyes. "And did they do so knowing all of the risks their children would encounter? I am sure they did not. The hostages, naturally, will agree in hopes to help their friends, their sister. Will you agree to be the hostage or have them fail? What kind of choice is that anyway?"

He even had doubts about Karkaroff giving any choice at all to Krum's hostage. The girl hadn't been very fond of her date, so to undoubtedly risk her life for him was highly suspicious. But to prove that she was coerced into it would be a political nightmare.

"It's not the best outcome," Headmaster Dumbledore agreed. "But we have to live with the Ministry's decision and make the best of it. Certainly, you agree."

"Actually I do not," Percy shook his head. "Regretfully, it's not my decision," Karkaroff smirked. Bagman and Dumbledore at least had the decency to look unhappy. "But I expect precautions to be taken, serious ones. This time, we can't hope for the best and wait for Hogwarts' Spirit to intervene. We have to arrange something ourselves." Dumbledore grimaced for a second as Percy reminded him of the Spirit's sudden appearance.

"I agree," Madam Maxime stopped Karkaroff's sneering response with a cold glare. "What would be acceptable?"

Percy narrowed his eyes and thought about it. He had been brainstorming with Penny about it and remembered a couple of things Harry and Hermione had told him. "Portkeys! Every champion should have one. Perhaps Professor Flitwick can arrange something to monitor the champions and the hostages as well. Their life-signs at least, perhaps even their progress. Casting that on a canvas for the audience to watch would make the task more exciting as well." Ludo Bagman liked this idea very much. His mind was already racing around how to get money out of this. "I'm certain Professor Mastersen would be willing and able to help with a more comfortable tribune as well, protected from the worst weather." He thought about it for a moment and nodded slowly. "Yes, I think that would be the minimum required concerning precautions."

"And how do you intend to pay for all this?" Karkaroff whined.

"Losing a champion or a hostage would be more expensive," Percy answered coldly. He looked around, his gaze staying with each of the judges for a moment. "Let me make myself very clear: If something happens to one of the champions or hostages, something that could have been avoided through the precautions I just suggested, I'll make public the fact that the tragedy only happened because you preferred to play penny pinchers." His glare intensified and he ignored the shocked gasps his threat produced. "One of the champions is my brother, two other champions and two of the hostages are my friends. I won't watch you force them to take unnecessary risks. This whole tournament is a mess already, but as Headmaster Dumbledore already mentioned: we have to make the best out of it. And the best is certainly not to endanger the participants while the audience is sitting in the cold February weather watching the Lake without anything to do."

He looked around again, calmer this time. "We have magic. Let's use it."

.

 _ **A/N**_

 _Next time: the second task_


	20. Chapter 20 The Second Task

**The Second Task**

.

 _ **Crouch Jr**_

.

With a false, but still genuine-looking smile, Barty Crouch Jr took a seat among the other judges. Two large screens had been arranged in a way to offer a good view of the show for the bulk of the audience. Barty had actually been happy about that arbitrary act of his subaltern. For a start, it would distract him from an otherwise very dull time until disaster shattered the currently festive mood. It would also create a stronger impact for the public with hundreds of wizards watching the incident happen in live and full Technicolor.

 _Perhaps I should have altered McNair's instructions concerning the French Champion_ , he mused darkly. _It would have been nice to watch the half-breed's face the moment she would discover the lifeless body of her younger sister_. He sighed mockingly. _So sad a turn of events! The latest Delacour won't ever start school and become a star like her older sister. How careless of the old man to have cast that stasis spell so sloppily…_

"Is everything alright?" Bagman whisper-asked him, having noticed his colleague's strangely absent behaviour.

Barty silenced him instantly with a look before nodding curtly. "I was only thinking about the task. Hopefully, there won't be any severely injured champion – or hostage this time around."

Bagman paled for a second before attempting to save face and look confident at the same time. "Headmaster Dumbledore himself took care of the hostages' safety precautions." _If he only knew_. He gestured towards the screens. "And with the screens I installed, we shall know in time should anything happen to the champions."

Crouch accepted the reply with another curt nod. He did not let any emotions show as he thought about those precautions. The stasis spell had been cast without a fault, as expected by all. Nobody actually checked them closely, exactly like _he_ had expected. So, nobody noticed him adding a little spin to it: a bio-enhancing spell. It would accelerate the inner clock of the Veela's body, cutting the intended duration of the spell in half. Instead of being safe for a little more than a fully hour, she would wake up after thirty or forty minutes max. Three minutes later she would be dead, facing a hopeless and quite painful demise. Chained to her post at the waist, unable to cast a spell, in full darkness, and with no air to breathe, it would be a cold and brutal death, quite fitting for the half-breed in his opinion. Barty shuddered, the anticipation making him giddy.

And using the screens as a prevention measure? True, they would be enough should a champion get entangled or otherwise incapacitated. Perhaps it would even be enough for someone to come to the French Champion's rescue when she got attacked by Grindylows. A little extra added to her breakfast this morning will turn her sweat into something very appealing for the little pests. They will be unable to ignore her presence, drawn to the older girl like sharks to a bleeding wound. Even if she survived, Albus' reputation would be in ruins. _Why didn't you consider the age-old enmity between water creatures and Veelas old man? You really should have…_

 _Yes, he truly should_ , Crouch hid a grin.

If everything happened as expected, McNair wouldn't even need to intervene. He had orders to stay out of sight at all times. Not that Barty trusted the brutal and impulsive executioner more than he could throw him. McNair had his uses but you always had to be careful with him. _You're responsible for his actions_. Crouch remembered his master's word clear as day. Luckily, he had taken precautions as well. Should everything go to hell, there would still be a believable culprit: a former follower of the Dark Lord, single-handedly attempting to take revenge. Even catching him, wouldn't threaten Barty because of some carefully plant memory charms that took over in case of Veritaserum or Legilimency applied to the man. _What a stroke of luck we had been able to solve that riddle._

 _Yes, lucky indeed_ , Crouch sneered. _This isn't about luck, but plans and backup plans. He had been in Azkaban once. Never again._

 _Never again._

.

 _ **Michael**_

.

They were all on their way to the Lake, their minds on the coming task. Jenny, Hermione and Paul accompanied the boys, feeling both tense and slightly angry. The evening before, as Professor McGonagall commanded the Weasley Twins to fetch the future hostages, Hermione had sent them all packing with harsh words and an even icier look. Ten minutes later, Professor McGonagall knocking on the shack's door showed the same lack of success, in parts because of Minerva's lack of personal conviction. Too much had happened since Harry's arrival for her to follow Albus blindly anymore. They had spent the night in Paul's shack, the girls sharing Jenny's bed – enlarged to suit the five girls, with Jenny in the centre, Parvati with her sister on the left, and not a paper's thickness of space between Luna and Hermione on the right. Michael was thankful for the elder girl's emotional support. She had been their soul and anchor, able to sooth Luna and Parvati while doing her best to calm down Hermione and Padma as well. In her fury, the bushy-haired witch had been struggling not to visit the Headmaster and strangle him with his own beard.

Charlie had been the one knocking at the shack's door this morning, with Padma greeting him with a blush. Parvati had been a mess but so thankful for her sister's presence. Luna had left with only a small wave, as if she didn't care – or was simply certain that Harry would save her in time whatever came.

"You have to promise me that you won't hold back," Michael mumbled as they passed the gates of Hogwarts and followed the meandering path down to the lake. Harry looked up and narrowed his eyes. Before he had a chance to speak up, Michael continued with a sigh. "I know you intend to hold back and stay close to me. Don't you dare deny it."

Jenny sniggered. "He got you there."

Harry glowered for a moment, before agreeing with a shrug. "Staying close enhances the chance of nothing happening to either of us."

Michael scoffed. "Yeah, as if you'll need my assistance."

Harry stopped, his glare intensifying. "Everyone can fumble. Everyone can be surprised, or simply miss danger signs. Everyone needs help from time to time. It would be ridiculous to deny an additional safety button in such times of danger. I trust you to have my back, just like I will have yours. And don't belittle yourself."

Michael blinked, stunned.

"Well said, little brother," Jenny gave him a one-arm hug, tousling his hair. Harry tried to push her away and to straighten his hair, both without much success.

"Michael wants you to go ahead as fast as possible," Hermione's calm voice made them turn around. "to watch over the girls and take care of Parvati should Michael be too slow."

Harry threw a questioning look in Michael's direction and got an acknowledging nod. He sighed deeply. "Alright, I can do that too."

.

 _ **Ludo Bagman**_

.

Bagman was awaiting the champions at the pier. The oaken wood had been freshly cleaned to look good and new instead of old and weathered like always. Like the tribune, it had been infused with magic for protection against the perils of the infamous Scottish weather. Today, the spirits of magic were with them and sent a bright and clear sky instead of rain or snow. It was still a bit cold but the winds had stopped as well, seemingly by magic.

 _Perhaps I should ask Professor Masterson for help with organising the next big Quidditch event_ , Bagman mused. _Being protected from wind and rain would certainly be nice for the crowd and teams alike_. _It could even turn into a somewhat profitable event._

His gaze wandered to the lake and he shuddered, feeling the deep chill cut through his bones. Without warming charms, the coldness alone could kill anyone long before the task's time was up. Crouch had been quite forceful in his demand to have all champions checked for such a protection before they entered the water. It hadn't been the first time his colleague questioned the Headmaster's preparations and safety precautions. It was a little over the board in Bagman's mind. The tournament was meant to be dangerous, and danger was the main entertainment for the crowd.

On the other hand, Crouch's objections gave him the opportunity to pay off his debt to Gringotts. The Goblins had already started to annoy him with their constant payback demands. Little, ugly penny-pushers that they were. So what if he was a little out of funds right now? The bets he took on the tournament would soon change that. However, selling pictures from the second task would help him get back on top sooner than expected. Those screens – and his idea to assure all rights on the images to a photographer who was in his pocket – offered him a fabulous opportunity. _I will have to write Weasley a thank-you letter once it is over_. Or perhaps not. It was never a good idea to blare about your success. The judges had followed Percy Weasley's plan in that regard, but there still wouldn't be any portkeys. The Department of Magical Transportation had been unusual stiff in their rejection of their demand, and the judges hadn't forced the matter. Bagman shrugged. The champions would manage without them, he had no doubt.

 _Ah, here they are_ , he noticed the last group getting closer. Time to start.

.

 _ **Hermione**_

.

Hermione stayed close to Jenny the whole time, with Padma on her other side and Paul and Charlie flanking them. The elder Weasley glared at three of his younger brothers as he passed by them while giving a nod and a smile to Penny and Percy. Penny had hugged Hermione quickly but whole-heartedly, and whispered words of cheer to her. Now they were watching the champions while listening with only half an ear to Bagman's explanations. They had one hour to rescue the hostages. No surprise there. "The hostages will never be in any serious danger." A grim smile crossed Hermione's face. The judges had been willing to give that statement before the task started only at Percy's insistence. It would have been pure torture for the champions to be in the unknown, especially for Fleur. _Hopefully, Fleur's mum had some chosen words for her dear husband about giving his unilateral consent to use their younger daughter in this task. Such as attempting to emasculate him – with a blunt spoon_.

Meanwhile, the champions were preparing themselves for the task: all of them wore some kind of swimsuit. Fleur Delacour's silvery one-piece certainly attracted the most attention, with Viktor's hairy and muscular visible chest not far behind. The later was currently posing for the public, prompting Hermione and Padma to lift their eyebrows, their mood a bit lightened by this silliness. Harry and Michael still had issues with the warming charm, but luckily, they had found a way around it: they both wore some Muggle neoprene suit, customized, which would help to keep them warm. And then there was Harry's secret master plan as well. Hermione was eager to see how the judges would react to that choice.

"Fleur smelled weird," Jenny's words interrupted Hermione's musing.

"What?" Hermione frowned. "What smell?"

"I don't know," Jenny shrugged. "She smelled… fishy. Do you think she used some kind of potion to help her with the task?"

"I have no idea," Hermione replied. It was possible. Michael had something similar in mind after all. "I didn't notice."

Jenny tapped the tip of her nose with her finger. "I have better olfactory sense thanks to my training. It gets a bit troubling sometimes, especially around people like Lavender."

"Her perfume?" Hermione grinned. "Too much?"

Jenny rolled her eyes. "You have no idea."

"Look, it's getting started."

.

 _ **Harry**_

.

"Go search for Luna and Parvati." The order had been simple and eagerly expected by Jerry, Harry's fluffy friend. With glee in his tiny eyes, Jerry hastened away under the curious eyes of the judges and the crowd alike. Within seconds, he vanished into the depths of the water, his magical body requiring neither air nor warmth. Jerry _disliked_ the water, but it didn't hurt him.

Within moments of the task officially starting, two of the champions had entered the water. Harry even stopped in his tracks to watch Viktor. The Durmstrang champion had certainly found a unique and efficient solution to wandering underwater for an hour: he had turned into some kind of creature half-shark half-man. Harry wasn't certain whether the crossbreed was meant to look like this or if Viktor hadn't been able to fully turn into a shark, but the arms would certainly be helpful to free his hostage, while the gills would allow him to breath.

"He should have turned his feet into a shark's tail," Michael noted blandly. "It would have made his swimming faster."

Harry nodded, his expression turning into a grin as he addressed his friend. "Speaking of fins: don't you have something to do?"

"Already giving up?" Headmaster Karkaroff sneered which both boys ignored pointedly. In their eyes, the coward and bully of a man didn't even deserve an answer. Instead Michael recast his warming charm. It would hardly last ten minutes, but for the task at hand it would be enough. Crouch tried to argue about the safety of this course of actions only to be interrupted by Harry: "He knows what he is doing."

Seconds later, Michael was in the water. Instead of turning towards the middle of the lake like Fleur and Viktor, he swam towards a point not far from the edge of the lake. Unbeknownst to most, he had gotten the authorization from Madam Sprout to plant a couple of Gillyweed plants there. His job currently was to get enough for Harry and himself. While the champions weren't allowed to prepare any potions for the task or use any magical item beside their wands – Harry even had to leave behind his healer bracelet – they could still utilise everything they found in the lake – and on its edge. Hermione had made sure to clarify the rules for this purpose.

Aware that he had about five to seven minutes until Michael's return, Harry walked steadily but without unduly haste along the edge of the lake until he found the wooden post in the sand, he had put there the day before. A _notice me not_ charmhad prevented anybody from taking it away by chance. Two minutes later he was back at the pier. Everybody's eyes were on him now, as Fleur and Viktor were still swimming easily towards the deeper waters. Viktor was a little faster. Fleur – still breathing through her bubblehead spell – was slowly falling back, the cold water obviously not her preferred domain. She would still be able to rescue her sister in time, Harry guessed. He sat down and with a few cutting motions of his hand he sliced it off into four smaller parts.

"What are you doing boy? Fear made you crazy?" Karkaroff snickered.

Harry looked up and frowned. He disliked the man immensely, both for his Death Eater past and how he had handled Viktor's Yule ball date. "Shut your gob or I'll do it for you." Karkaroff's eyes widened. This was merely a boy, but those eyes were as deadly green as a Death Curse. He nearly wet his pants while gaping like a fish. Harry ignored him once again and started to mould the wood pieces like soft clay. The result looked like a collection of simple wooden bangles.

"Have you finished yet?" He asked Michael a bit later, barely looking up as his friend reappeared from the water.

Instead of answering, Michael showed him the Gillyweed. It was enough to give have three portions each.

Harry nodded. "Good. Your arm, please" he demanded. Michael obediently stretched out his left arm and Harry put one of the wooden bangles around it. Putting his hand on the bangle, he let his magic flow into the wood. "The Charm," he ordered after a moment. Michael cast a warming charm, weaker than the first one. Harry's magic anchored it to the wood. It wouldn't be permanent, not like the healer wristband he always wore, but would still hold for a few hours.

"Is this even allowed?" Karkaroff demanded angrily.

"They used wood and plants from the lake, so yes." Percy answered the question, as nobody else had been reading the regulations this carefully. Even he had to look up that precise paragraph when Hermione had asked him.

"But they aren't allowed to help each other. That's cheating." Karkaroff growled, slowly grating on Harry's nerves.

"Actually," Percy rejected the complaint. " _others_ , be it students, teachers or members of the audience, aren't allowed to help _them_. But there is nothing in the regulations about the champions not helping each other."

"He's right," Headmaster Dumbledore confirmed, trying to get some good will with the boys. _Too little, too late_ , Harry mused. "It's unusual, yes, but still allowed."

Karkaroff wasn't happy, but kept silent at last. The boys continued their work until both got a wooden bangle with a warming charm around their arm and a second one in their pocket, together with three portions of Gillyweed. Fleur and Viktor had a fifteen-minute advantage by now, but without these preparations, their poor grasp of the bubblehead charm would not have given them any chance to reach the girls in time.

The boys were finally ready. Jerry hadn't returned from his search, but Harry had no doubt he would find his beloved Luna in time. It didn't mean he would sit on his hunches while waiting though. "Let's go, Michael. Our girls are waiting." They high-fived each other.

Time for the show.

.

 _ **Walden McNair**_

.

McNair was moving slowly through the murky water. He had been meticulous in his preparations, both to fulfil his part of the mission and to ascertain his safety should everything fall apart. He remembered quite well the day that man approached him, a man he hadn't expected to see ever again. Barty Crouch Jr, who supposedly died in Azkaban years ago, had been sent to prison by his own father. He had been one of the Dark Lord's most ardent followers, in part to get back at his genitor. His trial had cost the old man every hope of ever becoming Minister, something he had hated his son for till the end. McNair had no idea how Barty got free only to impersonate his own father. In the end, it was of no consequence. What was of value was his suggestion to mess with the second task and blame the Headmaster for the disruption.

Barty wasn't working on his own, McNair was sure of that. His old comrade didn't spill the beans, but the way he spoke about the plan meant there simply had to be someone backing him up. _It can't be Lucius_ , McNair mused, lazily moving his feet to stay afloat. Lucius was on the out, like most members of the old circle of Death Eaters after the Quidditch debacle. And then there were those that gathered around Black. It had been a surprise to watch Nott, Pucey and a few others becoming friends with their old foe. _Azkaban apparently changed him, even more so than expected_. Black now hated Headmaster Dumbledore as much as the next Death Eater, that was obvious for everyone. He made him responsible for unduly letting him rot in prison for more than a decade. Could he be the one who ordered Barty to plan this debacle? It certainly was possible.

McNair turned around, his magical goggles allowing him to see everything around him clearly. Several dozen Grindylows were hiding in the seaweed. It had been easy to lure a few shoals of them from their old fishing grounds closer to the path he expected the champions to take towards the middle of the lake. The potion Barty promised to mix into the French champion's food should accomplish the rest. He was only around to intervene should the girl somehow prove herself able to get away. A spell on her suit to make it more substantial, a dispel of her bubble-head spell or her warming charm, and the beasts would take care of the rest. Barty hadn't especially ordered her death, but McNair hated to leave his work half-done. There wasn't such thing as a half-dead convict for an accomplished executioner. Entirely and utterly dead, that was the target of the day for him. McNair smiled viciously. If Barty was allowed to kill the younger French girl, he surely could have a little fun as well.

He nodded happily. Yes, everything was prepared. The trap was set. Now, he was waiting for his prey.

.

 _ **Michael Bain**_

.

Michael was nervous, concerned and really struggling to stay calm enough to continue on his agreed upon path instead of choosing a shorter and faster but equally more dangerous route. Picking a speed he had the endurance to keep up for the whole distance would win the race to his girl. And he knew he was still much faster than the other champions thanks to his Gillyweed fins. This was confirmed a good ten minutes later when he detected Fleur Delacour not far ahead. The French champion was a sight to behold and Michael had to concentrate on the task ahead not to get distracted by her silver-clad… assets. Barely a minute later he had already caught up with her and passed her with a curt nod, suppressing an arrogant smirk that would only tempt fate or make the girl angry. She looked flabbergasted enough, surely berating herself not to have thought of using the herb herself.

His body was still warm thanks to Harry's wooden bangle. Michael had rarely been more thankful for this unexpected friendship. He would keep the bangle afterwards. Even without magic it was a nice piece of work. Not that it could compare in any way to the wooden figurines Harry had crafted for his blonde sweetheart on Christmas. It was a wolf, small enough to fit in Luna's hand, carved with insane precision. It gave you the impression that you could count the hairs of its fur. And it had a very expressive face. The most wonderful thing, however, was the fact it started to move when Luna concentrated on it. Linked to the girl's magic, it was able to run around or play with small things. It even seemed to react to her mood, behaving differently when she was happy or sad. If this was what Harry was able to do now with his Woodcraft Magic when mostly self-educated, Michael anticipated to great things from him in the future. _If nothing else, he could become a great artist_ , Michael mused, wishing he had a similar talent.

" _But you do_ ," he heard his inner Harry voice. " _You only need to believe in yourself_."

Michael wanted to believe that voice.

Something touched his leg. Grindylows! Michael stared at them for a moment. They weren't meant to be here! Harry and Michael had followed Krum's example and visited the lake a couple of times since Christmas. If he remembered correctly, the Grindylows had their fishing grounds more to the East. And there was a huge shoal of them as well. Kicking one of them away, he started to swim upwards a little. Most of them stayed close to the ground, only a small agitated group following him.

"Pisces aurei!" The vision of Luna teaching him the obscure spell clear in his mind, Michael spoke – well bubbled – the words and swished his wand. Luckily, they had trained on it underwater and it was a very simple and fast spell. It conjured a dozen goldfishes, sparkling in the bit of light reaching this part of the water. The Grindylows got easily distracted and followed the far more exciting prey, allowing Michael to quickly get away, happy not to have to hurt the creatures. Looking around, he realigned his path. _Wouldn't do to get lost now_ , he thought.

 _This way now_ , he decided and sped up again. Hopefully, there won't be any more danger ahead. _Hope dies last_ , he grinned without humour. _Whenever had it been this simple_?

.

 _ **Gabrielle Delacour**_

.

It was cold, so cold. The small girl opened her eyes and blinked several times. There wasn't much to see around her. The surrounding area was quite dark, with only a couple of spots emitting an eerie light. Far above, there was a hint of dark grey instead of the blackness surrounding her. She twisted her head, suddenly detecting something close to her. A body? Two bodies?... perhaps even three of them, she decided. There was a flash of blonde hair. _Luna! That's Luna over there. She was with me in the office this morning_. In the office of Headmaster Dumbledore before he…

The memory hit her with force. _I'm at the bottom of the Lake. But why am I awake? Did Fleur find me already?_ That young man had explained it all to her patiently. Obviously trying to calm her. Wuzzley or something. She couldn't see her sister anywhere. _Why isn't Fleur here? or the other champions_? _He said I would only wake up when we reached the surface_. Gabby was getting more and more anxious. And freezing. She drew a deep breath. The air smelled wrong as well. Gabby didn't understand Biology. She had no idea that the small oxygen supply in her bubble, normally meant to be magically replenished, was fast burning away with every breath she took. She understood however that breathing became more and more difficult. _I'm going to suffocate. I can't breathe!_ So she started to panic. The worst possible thing to do in her situation.

 _I have to get out of there_. She looked up to the smidge of light. Gabby moved to swim towards it, only to be stopped immediately by something fastened to her. _A belt, I'm held down by a belt_. She felt around, fingering a thin chain strapped to the belt, the other end connecting her to a wooden pole. Her cold, numb fingers tried to peel it off, but she was unable to accomplish it, all the time burning even faster through the now nearly non-existent oxygen.

"Fleur! FLEUR!" She screamed, coughing as she desperately tried to catch some air.

 _Oxygen! I have to cast the spell_. She shuddered, trying to calm down and remember. She didn't have a wand but luckily, she wouldn't need one. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her last lesson. Paul, Harry and Greg had been there. " _If I can do it, you can do it as well_ ," the big boy had told her. He had been her friend since the first task when he allowed her to nearly break his hand with her frantic grip as they watched Paul heal her sister.

 _I can do this_. "Oxygen!"

.

 _ **Harry Howell**_

.

More than one pair of eyes widened as Harry left the pier at last and moved towards the centre of the lake. Unlike the other champions, he chose not to go underwater from the start. He would do so later, but for now it was he needed to go full speed. He had promised Michael to reach the girls as fast as possible, and he would do so. Jerry still hadn't returned, but his friend was nearing the deepest point of the lake, a depression in the ground not far from the Mermen village. Where they expected the girls to be held. Harry's mental and emotional link with Jerry was lessened because of the distance, but it was still there. The small watcher understood the urgency of his job and was doing his best.

 _Faster, faster_ , Harry told himself. _Light feet, barely touching the ground, light as a feather_. With incredible speed he crossed the water surface, his feet barely getting wet. He knew he wouldn't be able to continue like this forever, but every yard of distance he was able to run, he wouldn't have to swim.

A picture flashed in his mind, a spark of joy drummed through his blood. _Jerry had found them_! Harry's energy renewed he continued his over-water sprint. _Fast and light, fast and light_!

.

 _ **Fleur Delacour**_

.

Fleur knew she was in deep trouble when her breathing charm evaporated without warning. One of the Grindylows had somehow been able to dispel it, perhaps piercing the not very sturdy membrane of the air cushion that allowed her to breath with something pointy. With wordless stinging charms she had been able to keep the beasts away for a while, but there were simply too many of them. They were also far more aggressive than expected. This went far beyond the usual enmity between this water race and her Veela kinship. More than one Grindylow had actually bitten her. Their teeth were as sharp as a shark's, and the wounds hurt like hell. Fleur was bleeding, and her blood only got the little pests more agitated. They behave like I'm some kind of delectable treat, or their last meal.

 _I have to get away from them and fast_ , she thought. So far, she had been unwilling to give up because of her sister. Headmistress Maxime had promised that nothing would happen to her little sister. She would be safe even if Fleur didn't reach her in time. For a second, a horrific picture of Grindylows attacking the sleeping girl crossed her mind, her beloved Gabby waking up only to be eaten alive. _No, I can't give up, I have to help her_. She may even be already in danger. A few minutes ago, she got a bad feeling, as if Gabby was deathly afraid and in panic, sending cries for help. It had distracted her, made her unobservant of the danger ahead. Now, she paid for her inattention, and if she weren't able to get away, her sister would pay as well.

With renewed energy she grabbed one Grindylows and pushed it away, only to have another one bite into her forearm. Her swimsuit, with barely enough fabric to cover her body, felt as heavy as a winter robe. It was dragging her to the ground. _Air, I need air_! She tried to lift her wand as the loss of her breathing charm slowly made it more and more difficult to ignore the shortage of oxygen. She swished her wand to recast the spell, but the motion attracted another pest, its skinny fingers grabbing wood and hand and making her fumble. She tried to get rid of the creature, but more and more Grindylows attached themselves to her body.

 _This can't be how it ends... Oh Gabby, I'm so sorry!_

.

"You can't possibly…"

Karkaroff, who had tried to stop him, coughed as Percy poked him forcefully into the stomach with the tip of his broom. Percy had snatched the miniaturized broom from the necklace Ludo Bagman always wore. The former pro Quidditch player was known never to separate from the broom he used on his last game with the Wimbourne Wasps. A hastily cast Engorgio spell and Percy was ready to rescue his brother's girlfriend, the young woman that one day would certainly become his sister-in-law. His mother hated the thought, which made it only an even greater probability. Bill had long stopped to listen to his mother's words regarding his life and future. Like the rest of the audience, he had watched the attack on the girl by the water creatures, first losing her bubble-head spell, then be injured. The girl might be able to recover, to free herself and get away. But he wanted to be in range should she need a knight in shining armour. Bill would never forgive…

 _Bill!_ Percy looked over his shoulder, ignoring the yells of the Judges and the hateful glare of his boss. Going at top speed, he only noticed for a second how Bill, who had been watching the scene while sitting with the rest of their family, made his through the audience towards the edge of the lake, pushing them away like a mindless troll on the path of tasty food. Concentrating anew, Percy looked forward, drawing his wand to vanish his robes and shoes. He was in pants and shirt now, allowing him to move through the water more easily should the need arise.

Now close to the spot of water he assumed Fleur to be, he was pondering whether to help her. Assisting her would disqualify her for this task, so he only should do so if things were desperate. On the other hand, if he delayed his intervention for too long, she might get killed or seriously hurt.

 _What should I do?_

To Percy's endless relief the very familiar Weasel Patronus of his father appeared at his side and spoke to him: "She's safe, Percy. Fleur is safe." He breathed deeply, swivelling towards the centre of the lake.

 _Thank Merlin! Fleur was safe. But how?_

.

"A broom? Hermione Granger owns a broom?" Padma blinked, more amused than confused. Like the rest of the audience, she had watched Charlie trying to calm his agitated older brother as Percy kicked off to go to the rescue obviously against the wishes of most of the Judges. Madam Maxime's intervention on her star pupil's behalf was necessary to allow Percy to move forward. Hermione had been strangely silent the whole time, cocking her head as if listening to something before she drew a wand from her bag and enlarged it just like Percy.

"It's not mine," Hermione responded with a small blush. "I borrowed it from Cedric. Just in case."

"But you hate flying," Padma said. "I mean really, really hate."

Hermione shrugged. "It's Luna. I would do everything for her."

"Even fly on a broom," Padma added, understanding how she felt.

"Yes," Hermione nodded and looked back towards the lake. "Something is happening over there, something is not like it should be. I can feel it."

She grabbed the broom stronger, felt the terrible urge to…

"He found her," Jenny interrupted her gloomy thoughts. "Harry just sent me a message. Jerry found Luna." Hermione sank back into her seat. Jenny's gaze, however, went back to the lake, wishing she could see what was happening. Harry's message had only been terse, more like a picture or a feeling than a whole sentence. He had used their sibling bond to reach out to her, doubtless hoping for her to sooth Hermione's nerves.

 _Jerry found her. But in what condition? What aren't you telling me, Harry?_

.

 _ **Jerry**_

.

Something was wrong. Jerry sensed it immediately as he reached the hostages. He had found them, he really did. Luna was alive and well. Now it would have been his duty to go search for Harry and lead him to this place as fast as he possibly could. His friend and master had already arrived on the surface near the middle of the lake. In a minute or two, he could be up there, and Harry would start his slower descent. But something stopped Jerry as he gazed to the right side of Luna. With a few swishes of his muscular tail, the tiny squirrel pushed himself forward. He really hated this cold water. It made him feel icky and his fur soaking wet. However, Luna the person that had surpassed even Jenny in Harry's heart and likewise his own, was here.

A small girl, far younger than any student Jerry had seen in Hogwarts, was in the water. _She was there when the Bear taught the cubs some spells_ , Jerry remembered. Something was wrong about her. The girl was awake and her emotions shone in different colours to his senses. Fear was prominent as well as some undiluted panic and a hopelessness that crushed Jerry's heart. He felt magic all over her body. It was weak and fast evaporating and her panic was hastening that process. Without a thought, Jerry crossed the last few yards and reached the girl. Her eyes widened. Only her confusion stopped her from pushing the gleaming creature away when his small paws touched her face.

 _Calm, you have to stay calm_ , Jerry sent his magic directly into her heart, hoping that she would understand and follow his advice. Gabby blinked, shocked. As the creature patted her cheek, she calmed down slightly. _She needs help_ , Jerry mused. _Friend Harry is too far away_. He glanced to the side. But _Luna! Our Luna is here. She could help, but she's sleeping_. He was struggling with the decision. Waking Luna up would put her in a more dangerous position, but without her…

Just then, Jerry felt the magic allowing Gabby to breathe come to an end. Without immediate help the little one would drown. Harry wouldn't arrive in time. And Luna wouldn't forgive herself, just like young Harry. So it was decided.

 _Time to wake up, Luna._

.

 _ **Walden McNair**_

.

"Blasted!" Walden cursed. "Thrice-damned, bloody, stupid git that you are. You should be tarred and feathered for turning back to rescue this creature."

He was slowly rising towards the surface, having decided that his time in the water had come to an early end. It had looked quite well for a while. The little pests had attacked the French Champion and nearly killed her. He had really hoped to see the thrice damned half-breed dead. Bloody Veelas, all arrogant and haughty, you should all be put in their place. In the last war, they had been rounded up and stored away in comfort houses – for the most respectable of Death Eaters to play with.

Yes, it had all looked quite good… until _He_ arrived.

.

 _ **A few minutes ago**_

Michael kept feeling bad ever since he crossed that shoal of Grindylows. They had warned Fleur against those beasts, but still. She would cross them too, she should have reached the spot by now. He stopped and looked back. No sight of her, none at all. He was getting more anxious by the minute and still was no sight of her. He turned around towards the middle of the lake to swim a few strokes only to stop again.

 _Perhaps she is in trouble._

 _She may have chosen another route_ , he tried to convince himself, without success.

 _But Parvati…_

He gulped. _Harry will save her. He promised_.

Michael glanced back again. _Nothing!_

Closing his eyes for a second, he nodded to himself finally decision. He would go back.

 _Hang in there, Fleur! I'm coming._

.

Someone was out there, moving through the water very fast, faster even than shark-man Krum. Before she had time to process the sudden appearance, she felt someone crash into her. An arm slung around her waist and pulled her into a close hug. Instinctively, she lashed out and elbowed the foreigner. But that didn't stop the man – she was certain now it was a man. She was close enough to his chest to notice the lack of a bust. Instead of pulling back, the man – who was apparently smaller than her – only pulled her closer and pushed his wand under her armpit towards the densest pack of Grindylows. Something happened, a spell unknown to her. It formed some kind of electrical field around their two bodies, protecting them, before exploding outward in a strong pulse, hitting more than a dozen Grindylows. Casting the spell another time had several Grindylows drifting in the water, apparently unconscious as many more screamed in pain. Within moments, the whole shoal fled the scene in panic. Only Fleur and the unknown man, only now loosening his grip on her, remained.

Fleur turned around, seeing the face of her saviour for the first time: an exhausted, but highly relieved _Michael!_

.

 _ **Harry Howell**_

.

 _Where are you, Michael?_ Harry wondered. There was no sign of his friend and Jerry hadn't immediately started his ascension after finding Luna. While certain Jerry would have a very good reason for his strange behaviour, Harry was by no small means troubled by this. What kind of problem or danger had they encountered down there? Harry took a deep breath. He had stopped walking and was now floating in the water, protected from the cold by his charmed bangle. The Gillyweed was still in his pocket as he intended to use the Oxygen spell first. In combination with his Adept Powers, he should be able to hold his breath long enough to rescue the girl – or girls. Still no Michael in sight, but wait… what was that?

There was movement above the water. Using the Eagle Eye charm, it was easy for him to recognise Percy Weasley. He was speeding towards a spot above the path the champions would have used. _Someone is in trouble_ , he realised. _Thanks to the camera charm Professor Flitwick put all around, they noticed someone needed help_. Harry frowned. With Percy taking the initiative, this could only mean Michael was in trouble. _Or Fleur_ , he added after a moment of contemplation. _She's Bill's girlfriend after all_. Harry gulped, feeling the urge to go there as well. But he had to stay, now even more than before. _I promised I would take care of Parvati_.

 _Jerry, where are you?_

.

As fast as possible, Harry followed Jerry's lead and descended toward the bottom of the lake. He was already nearing the muddy bottom as he came across a weird sight. Shark-Man Krum had obviously already found the hostages and freed his. He held the chain that had been used to fasten Ivalina to the post with his teeth-filled shark-mouth, dragging the still sleeping young woman behind while swimming towards the surface with vigorous strokes. Were sharks able to sneer? This one definitely was! Krum was ascending with his hostage. Did this mean the other hostages were still safe? Or did he simply not care? Harry presumed the latter. Jerry had transmitted emotional signals of urgency but not immediate danger coming from the girls. He had to hurry.

A few moments later, the hostages came in sight. Harry felt his heart beat faster and stronger as he saw Luna – a wide awake Luna. His eyes widened. Luna was fastened to a post in the ground, and she was waving to him. _Waving_! Involuntarily, Harry stopped, completely flabbergasted by the strange sight. Luna floated in the water like some moon faerie, completely unafraid but apparently happy to see him. Her smile was welcoming and she waved anew, this time pointing towards the girl at her side. Harry paled. It wasn't Parvati but Fleur's sister who was floating there, wide awake as well! He swam closer, feeling the magic around the girls. Parvati was a bit to the left, thankfully still sleeping under a stasis spell. Luna and Gabby however only used Oxygen spells - both cast by Luna - to protect them. Luna's was strong and stable, Gabby's not so much _. She's panicking, barely able to keep it together_ , Harry noticed, _and it's burning up her oxygen_.

As he closed the distance, Harry sensed other creatures doing the same. Mermen! They were watching him unhappily. Some of them kept back, their expression wary of him and his actions as far as he was able to interpret their mimics. Others had spears in their hands and seemed more aggressive. Hadn't the Headmaster promised to take care of them, to arrange a truce with their chieftain? Harry sighed. The Headmaster had also promised to put the girls under a stasis charm, and look how well that turned up. He grabbed two portions of Gillyweed and offered them to the girls. Luna accepted it readily and chewed the plant whole-heartily, Gabby following suit. The taste wasn't to their liking which made Harry grin, lightening things up.

Regretfully, things went back to dire lightning fast. As soon as he moved to free the girls, one of the Mermen approached him and gestured that he was only allowed to rescue one hostage. _But I have to free both of them_ , Harry frowned. He gestured towards Luna and Gabby, trying to explain that both girls were in danger of suffocating. The Merman wanted none of it. _One girl only! Bastard!_ With a feeling of deep regret, Harry moved towards Luna, only to get zapped by her magic under her death glare. Harry blinked. He wanted to free her so much, his heart and his magic demanded it, urgently. But Luna didn't see it this way. There was no doubt she was ordering him to rescue the small girl first. For a second Harry thought about ignoring Luna's silent plea. But then, he remembered his talks with Michael about Parvati, and how she held the final decision about staying Michael's girlfriend as well as his hostage. _And now those words are coming back to bite me_ , he grumbled. Luna smiled at him wistfully, knowing exactly what was going on in his mind. Sometimes, she really was too insightful for her own good, grumbled Harry.

Harry moved towards her to kiss her vigorously before turning around to free Gabby. Again, some of the Mermen behaved aggressively, confusing their brethren. The chain loosened, Harry immensely happy about the Alohomora variant lessons he got from Luna and Hermione. Gabby only wore the belt around her waist now, which he would take care of once the girl was safe. It didn't hinder her motions all that much. Suddenly, something caught his eye. Harry moved to the left, dragging the girl with him, barely avoiding the spear that tried to pierce his chest. Whirling around, he noticed a quarrel between the Mermen, some of the more peaceful ones trying to stop a small group that were intend on… Harry glanced to the target of their hateful glares… Gabby.

 _Why are they trying to kill the girl?_ He parried another attack by deflecting the spear with his hand while thinking it through. Fleur had told them about the enmity between Veela and Mermen, but this went far beyond. There was pure hate in their eyes, hate and something different. With another spear thrust, deflected once again by Harry, the Merman was disarmed. Luckily, his two comrades had been overwhelmed by their brethren before they were able to get in weapon range. Even Harry would have been hard pressed to stop a combined attack of three Mermen. _I will have to subdue this one_ , Harry mused as his opponent let go of the spear and drew a vicious looking fishbone blade. The water slowed him down, preventing normal Karate attacks from affecting his foe. Luckily, water had no effect on his Ki Fist. He waited for the right moment. _Dodge! Parry!_ Suddenly, his fist went up, rendering the attacking Mermen unable to draw back after another slash of his knife. A wave of pure magic hit him in the temple, and the effect was immediate. The other Mermen didn't like the sight of one of them drifting in the water, motionless, irrespective of what he had done seconds before and how weird he had behaved. But they calmed down as they confirmed that he was only unconscious.

 _Hopefully, I'm now allowed to take care of my girl_. This hope was dashed, still _one girl only_. Again, Harry thought about ignoring the order. They had attacked him once, what if they did it again. _No!_ Luna's gesture was unambiguous and straightforward: _get to the surface and take Gabby with you, and only Gabby_. Harry hated her stubbornness very much right now, but accepted her decision. With a last glare at the remaining Mermen, promising them pain and death should anything happen to Luna, he started his ascent. Every fibre in his body urged him to go faster, but he had to remain calm. The water pressure didn't allow a fast ascension, as it would seriously injure the small girl. Yard by yard he got up, stopping several times to let his magic wash over Gabby, rejuvenating her and protecting her. With relief, Harry noticed the light above as they approached the surface, and the shadowy face of someone hovering above them: _Percy!_

They broke they surface at last. Gabby still under the effect of the Gillyweed. She tried to breath, panicking when she couldn't.

"Is everything alright?" Percy asked, his voice laced with concern. "What's up with her? Oh, that's not Luna. Why…"

Harry stopped his rambling. "Explanations later." He turned to the girl. "You have to stay in the water until the Gillyweed expires." Gabby shook her head. She wanted out, now! Harry sighed, wondering how to convince the girl. Jerry – who had stayed with them at all time - fortunately got her to calm down: he put his paws on her face, sending calming waves towards her. With all the force his tiny body could muster, he then gently pushed her back below the surface, allowing the girl to breathe through her gills once more. The Gillyweed would last for another ten to fifteen minutes, and Harry couldn't wait until then.

"Gabby, this is Percy." Percy gave a friendly wave. "He'll take care of you." Gabby shook her head. She wanted Harry to stay and clenched to him. "Gabby, I have to get Luna. She's still down there." Gabby blinked. She glanced down to where Luna was. "Do you understand?" Gabby nodded slowly. "Keep your head under water and stay close to Percy, okay?"

The girl didn't look happy but bubbled: "Okay."

Harry hugged her and commanded Percy: "Take great care of her."

"I will."

.

The rest of the task went without a hitch. Harry reached Luna, already thinking about how to convince the Mermen to allow him to free his girlfriend, when he noticed the belated arrival of Michael and Fleur. Gabby's sister didn't look good at all. With scratches and bite wounds all over her slim body, she was under the effect of Gillyweed instead of her bubblehead charm. Some emotional moments and gestures later, the duo understood that Gabby was already safe and that the Mermen only allowed one hostage to get freed by each champion. Fleur freed the blonde girl and started to ascend, torn between being equally careful as Harry not to move too fast and feeling the urge to reach her sister as fast as she could.

The ascension seemed to last forever but finally the end was in sight. _Hopefully, the rest of the day will be more relaxed_ , Harry mused.

The truth couldn't be further from this: the real fight had only just begun.

.

 _ **Barty Crouch**_

.

Despite how much Barty wanted to curse at this very moment, he managed to stay calm and composed. The girls had survived, both of them. And while McNair's task was a success, his dismissal of the brat wasn't. The Dark Lord wouldn't be happy. Oh no! Potter was a hero now, and so was the Bain-boy. Hopefully, the Dark Lord would still accept this mission as a success with Dumbledore's security measures looking faulty to the whole world.

Please, please, please, let McNair having been careful and worked without leaving traces. The man had his uses and he would truly hate to have to sacrifice him. His gaze wandered to the Forest's edge. No alarm or Aurors running towards where McNair was hiding. Only those damned girls on a broom… Barty cursed under his breath. _If shit happens, it happens big_.

.

 _ **Jenny Howell**_

.

"To the left," Jenny directed her friend, pointing over her shoulder towards a gloomy part of the forest.

 _If anybody told me last week that I would be doing this_ … Hermione mused and shook her head. _Insane! Simply insane! How come it always happens to me?_

.

Michael had just rescued Fleur from the Grindylows under the eyes of her family and hundreds of spectators. The boy didn't fathom how his reputation would change through this act of kindness, fairness and bravery. The Claws were impressed by his knowledge of such an obscure spell, the Puffs cheered to his loyalty, the rumour that the Sorting Hat initially wanted to put him in their house helping a great deal. And the Gryffs? Well, they felt bad for belittling him so much. Only the Slytherins stayed true to their hating self – for the most part.

"She'll be safe," Millie tried to calm Greg. While she was Vince's girlfriend now and had come to accept Greg's feeling for Granger, he was still her best friend and it troubled her to see him show such concern about Gabby.

When most others switched their attention from Fleur to her younger sister as Harry approached the hostages, Jenny noticed something on the surface of the water. Something magically hidden was moving there.

"Something the matter?" Hermione asked, noticing Jenny's distraction.

Jenny nodded slowly and pointed towards a seemingly empty space on the lake. "Someone is there, hidden under… one of those spells you Brits use for hiding."

"Disillusion?" Hermione frowned, deeply concerned. There was no good reason for someone to hide himself under such a spell there. "We have to warn the Aurors."

Jenny shook her head, "No time. They are moving away already."

"It's roughly where Fleur was," Hermione looked thoughtfully. "Do you think this person had something to do with the Grindylow attack?"

"Only one way to find out," Jenny responded with a grin, glancing at the broom in Hermione's hand.

"Oh no!"

"Oh yes!" Jenny smirked.

"No, no, no. No way!" She tried to stop her friend.

It was useless. Hermione was doomed.

.

Hermione stopped their flight as Jenny gestured for her to land. The older girl looked around. "Something is hiding under here. There is some kind of ward."

Hermione looked around with a frown. "And something is missing. There should be an abandoned stable over here. Hagrid uses it in winter for storing food for some of the forest creatures." She had visited him a few times, before he chose _Harry Potter_ over her, and Greg had told her about the stable. Now, there was only empty space between the trees. "We should… Ugh!"

Hermione was pushed to the ground as something purple crossed the air where she had been a second before. It smashed into a tree and left behind a smouldering hole in the bark. Jenny jumped high in the air, avoiding another spell. _Two attackers_ , Hermione analysed, blocking the next spell with a _Protego_ while moving behind a tree to get some protection from the second attacker. She glanced around the tree and had to pull back as more spells came her way. _McNair, that's McNair_! she realizes with stupor. She had read a couple of articles about that man. He was the Ministry's executioner for dangerous creatures. There was no doubt about his identity. He even wore on his back the axe he had so proudly presented to the press after his last kill.

And another thought crossed her mind, a terrible one. _He won't let us live now that I've seen his face. Oh, Jenny, what mess did you get me into this time?_

.

"Fuck!"

Luna blinked as Fleur looked shocked. Luckily, Gabby was still under the water and didn't hear Harry curse. "I have to go," he announced.

"Jenny?" Luna guessed correctly.

"Yes," Harry hastily looking away, trying to hide Hermione's part in this.

" _We're getting attacked. Deadly danger. Need help_." was the message he had gotten from her.

"Go," Luna ordered.

Percy offered his broom, but Harry didn't trust himself on that contraption. Not when Jenny's life was in the balance. Jumping back onto the surface of the water and trusting his abilities to get him afloat long enough he did something Paul had expressly forbidden. This would get him in bad waters with Paul and his mother once it was all over.

"Wolf, I need your help. My pack is in danger. Please, help me cross the limits of my existence. Help me cross the boundaries of this land," he silently prayed. The Wolf listened and - feeling the urge of his cub - answered.

Under the shocked eyes of the other champions, Luna and the whole audience, Harry opened a gate to the Dreamscape for the first time in his life. Without hesitation he crossed that gate, immediately feeling the change as he did so. The vast lake became a small pond, barely knee-deep and easy to cross. The forest turned more looming, hidden in dark fog and filled by eerie sounds. As fast as possible, Harry crossed the lake-pond, entered the forest and run between trees, looking for his own sister and Luna's, covering in seconds what would have required minutes. He had to find them, and fast.

"Over there!" Harry turned around and detected Myrtle – a very frightened looking Myrtle. What could frighten a ghost? "Be careful! The dark wizards aren't alone. He brought _them_ with him. _They_ should still be incarcerated, but they aren't. Not anymore." She hastened away without waiting for Harry's response, but he trusted her and followed her advice while wondering: _Who or what could_ They _be?_

.

 _Not this time_ , Jenny smirked, as her opponent used a spell similar to the one Moody had tried against her. Shocking him, she used her Adept powers to glide an inch over the mud that was meant to hinder her movement. Dodging a spell and deflecting a second one with her Shroud, she kept getting closer to him. He wore Auror robes, but there was something weird about him. Something was wrong with his eyes. She kept him between her and the second wizard, the one she had dubbed the more dangerous foe. Hermione tried to keep the man occupied, but she had to be careful. He was a brute, with no finesse but immensely powerful spells. More than one tree had already been marked deeply.

"Jenny!" Hermione screamed, following up with an equally powerful "Accio Jenny's robes!" Jenny felt herself dragged through the air towards her friend, while she suddenly sensed a deep coldness. Nearly animalistic fear crossed her heart for a moment, despair and a short spur of the wish to give up. All of which she pushed away. This wasn't natural, but magically induced. But how? Looking back where she had been merely moments before, she noticed two creatures looming between her and the Auror. They looked like ghosts but pitch black, hovering in the air and emitting that coldness.

"Dementors!" Hermione yelped as she got nearly hit by McNair's next spell, to be rescued by Jenny's parade. "We need a Patronus," Hermione said with a shudder. "I can't…"

"Do it," Jenny ordered, standing in front of Hermione to protect her. She intensified her Shroud in their defence, making it more difficult to hit the girls while hopefully deflecting the rest. It wouldn't help against those Dementors. It was this moment she chose to call for her brother. Hopefully he had already rescued Luna. _Luna!_ "You know that Luna will raise you from the dead to kill you anew if you don't get your act together and cast that Patronus, don't you?" She asked with a hint of humour. Hermione paled, knowing the truth behind Jenny's words.

 _Patronus_. She took a breath. _Patronus incoming right now_.

Hermione concentrated on her best memories, shutting down how Jenny was fighting a defensive battle against two wizards, slowly losing ground while doing her best to protect Hermione, even taking a hit or two when everything else failed. Her first ride on the Hogwarts express. Alice visiting her parents to convince them of Hermione's return. Meeting Luna for the first time. Their sibling bond. It was positive, it lifted her mood and protected her from the fear, but it still wasn't enough. She had tried those memories in the past and they had only ended in her casting a weak shield – a shield that wouldn't stop two of those creatures for long.

 _I need another thought_. Closing her eyes to not be distracted by the closeness of the Dementors, she tried to find a different approach to her happiness. _Greg!_ Was she willing to go there? He had done his best to stay faithful to her. He apologized. He visited her. He had been the one behind Percy's idea to pay for the Mandrake, even remembered her ramblings about that obscure paragraph in Hogwarts' regulations that allowed her parents to visit her.

 _This girl is the reason you want to become a Bear Shaman, the reason you want to go to Canada_. Greg hadn't denied his mother's words. There was more now. He really wanted to become a Healer, in her eyes one of the most honourable professions, and not only because of her parents. But she had been the starting point for this decision. He was doing this for her. Overwhelming joy filled her heart and erupted into her next spell.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!"

.

The battle came to a screeching stop. Everybody watched in baffled shock as the exit of Harry's portal came into existence right in the middle of the fight. The teenager left the dreamscape, having no clue that Percy had to physically stop Luna from following him. The young man grabbed the girl by her neck and lifted her in the air like a small kitten as she hissed at him. For a moment, Percy even expected to feel claws in his face.

Harry looked around. It didn't look good. Jenny had been hit by several spells with only her iron will refusing to give in. On Hermione's side, her left arm and leg had been shredded by dozens of wooden splinters after McNair hit a tree with a strong blasting hex. Two Dementors were there as well, kept back so far by… a Patronus. Jenny wasn't able to cast the spell, so it had to be Hermione's. It was fully corporal and its form…

Harry smirked. He would tease her later. Calling forth his own Patronus the shamanic way, he joined the fight. Jenny, feeling reenergised by her brother's appearance, charged ahead towards McNair with a battle cry, trusting Hermione to take care of the Auror.

 _It was time for round two._

.

 _ **Walden McNair**_

.

Walden felt the urge to scream. Everything was going downhill and it was all the squib's fault. He had been warned about her, but did he listen? No, he ignored the danger she posed and now paid dearly for that error. The Dementors were only meant as a backup, not to attack the champions but to cover his retreat. Their handler, the Auror he had imperioused to assist him, was meant to return them to the small contingent of Dementors stationed at the Ministry. Nobody should ever have learned of their absence. But somehow the girls had detected his presence and followed him here. This hideout was hidden under some strong wards erected by Walden the day before, still they found him. And then he made his second grave error. Instead of running away incognito as the Dementors delayed the girls long enough to cover his retreat, he had haughtily stood his ground.

It should have been easy to overwhelm them. They should have died fast, in pain and endless horror. However, nothing of that kind happened. They stood their ground, fought them and not too shabbily as well. Yes, they had been losing, but not fast enough. And now the cavalry arrived in the form of the boy he wasn't allowed to kill. His orders were crystal clear. He couldn't even risk sending grave spells his way. Killing him, even by accident, would make his family pay for it.

His Dementors got herded away from the girls by the duo of Patroni. They tried to keep away from those creatures of light, only to find their way blocked by an immensely angry boy who ignored their aura of icy coldness and attacked them with his bare hands. Walden's breath hitched. Getting killed – or soul-sucked – by Dementors would certainly count as his fault as well. The boy executed a motion like hitting the right Dementor with his open palm. Despite the hand never touching the creature, the Dementor got pushed back by an invisible force. The other Dementor rushed in to make use of the distraction. Walden just thought about intercepting his unnatural ally, as something unexpected happened. A tiny creature he had overlooked as unimportant so far but that had exited the portal as well, jumped the second Dementor, hit it straight in the face and clawed at his eyes or whatever counted for those. A thin layer of ice covered the small animal within seconds, but it didn't stop and its tiny claws kept hitting their target. With a screech the Dementor pulled back, allowing the boy to continue his own battle without interruption.

For a while, Walden had no time to watch the fight, however fascinating it would have been. Never before had someone battled a Dementor with bare hands – at least not for very long or in any way successfully. But he had his own battle at hands now. Despite her grave injuries, the older girl was still attacking him. She dodged the first spell, deflected the second and before he had a chance to get of a third, she disarmed him with a kick to his wrist. It hurt like hell but didn't break. Walden jumped back, a branch breaking as a hand cut the air just where he had been. He punched back but only met empty air. The girl had simply jumped in the air and kicked him into the chest. Walden felt like being kicked by a mule. Several of his ribs were sprained from the hit and his back hurt from where he landed. Dodging behind the next tree and forcing her to follow him around it, he used the moment to draw his beloved axe.

 _I'll behead you now, girlie_ , he thought with a vicious grin. _You'll pay now for your impertinence_.

.

 _Concentrate your energy. Channel every last ounce of it into one point. You are the point. You are the spear and the path. Nothing is able to stop you._ Harry had his eyes closed, shutting off every input of his mortal senses. Only the Awareness counted. He still _saw_ his foe, he still _saw_ the path. And then he attacked.

Another screech ripped through the air, this one far louder than any before, perhaps even loud enough to reach the tribune. _Was the range of the magical surveillance long enough to have the audience watch this fight?_ Hermione mused for a second as she glanced to the source of the screech while trying to stay in cover and not allow the Auror to use the distraction to his benefit. She gulped, the sight simply too shocking. Harry pulled back his ice-covered hand, formed into a spear – a spear he had used to pierce the Dementor from chest to rear. Like an empty piece of bed linen, it covered his forearm now, gliding to the ground with nothing left of the Dementor apart of a bit of dark fog that dissipated into the air within seconds.

Hermione blinked. _He killed a Dementor. Harry actually killed a Dementor. I didn't know that was even possible_.

The second one still tried to dodge the pair of Patroni, but it was erratic in his movements, staggering as if drunk… or blind. Was it possible to blind a Dementor? Apparently so. Jerry, by now covered by a thick layer of ice and barely able to move, fell to the ground. The Dementor had only one escape route – straight into the arms of an enraged Harry. Hermione had never seen him this angry. The teenager had to jump to the left as a piercing hex nearly hit him into the side. _The Auror!_ Hermione whirled around a used a Protego to shield Harry, following up with a couple of spells, sending a barrage at him in an unsuccessful attempt to break the Auror's shield before succeeding in knocking him out with an electrocution spell to his unprotected feet. _It is a good thing I've trained on that one with Michael_ , she thought as she succumbed to the pain and magical exhaustion. She wanted to take care of Jerry, she really did. But her body didn't allow it. That last spell had taken away the last tiny bit of her energy. There was simply nothing left. _Harry will take care of him_ , she told herself. _And Jenny. Where is Jenny?_ Turning her head, she had issues seeing what was happening there. Harry had destroyed the second Dementor, his other arm now ice-covered as well. But he was alive and still standing. _And Jenny?_ Hermione tried to lift her head. Suddenly pain flooded her body. Her eyes fluttered, closed. Then there was only blackness.

.

 _She's ok!_ Harry confirmed it with a bit of _Life Seeing_. Hermione was only exhausted, her wounds painful but not life-threatening. _Paul will take care of them_. The Auror was unconscious. His friend had perhaps put a bit too much energy in that last spell, feeling that it had to count before she become unable to continue the fight. This left Jerry and Jenny to take care of.

Jenny was still fighting that axe-wielding wizard. Harry didn't know him. He looked strong, his strokes were powerful, and he wielded the weapon like he knew something about axe-fights. A hit would be deadly and even Paul would have to strain himself to match him in pure strength. Only: Jenny had no wish to play the target dummy for this murderous looking axe. She was weaving back and forth, dodging the attacks like it was a choreographed dance meant to entertain some invisible audience. _Capoeira, she's using Capoeira_ , Harry realized. While Jenny, like their mother, preferred the straighter and more aggressive Kung Fu and Karate styles, Michiko had stipulated some lessons in other methods as well. Capoeira had been one of them. Jenny had spent two summers in Brazil, unusually eager to comply with her mother's wishes once she saw her newest trainer. And now, it was saving her life.

 _I have to trust her to take care of her opponent_ , Harry mused, barely successful in staying still instead of charging to her side. I would only distract her and distractions could be fatal. So, he hastened to the spot were Jerry lay immobile on the ground, covered by ice. The thought that the squirrel was "only" a magical construct and not a breathing creature didn't even cross his mind. Jerry was his friend, had been for years. He helped Luna and Gabby, risked destruction as he attacked the second Dementor. Now, he needed Harry's help, the support of his magical core and the nurturing of Harry's emotions. Gently Harry lifted the tiny body from the ground and let him rest against his chest. _You'll get better again soon, Jerry. I still need you, my friend_.

.

Jenny barely noticed what happened around her. The second wizard had been knocked out by Hermione who succumbed to exhaustion as well. Harry was taking care of Jerry, both Dementors destroyed. There was only the axe-wielder left. She had to stay close to him, else he would try to fetch his wand and flee. Unlike Moody he apparently didn't carry a second wand or he would have drawn it by now. Instead, he trusted his strength and the mighty axe in his hands. Bending back until her shoulders nearly touched the ground, Jenny dodged the next swing. Had it connected with her neck, it would have separated her head from her shoulders. Using his moment of recovery from the swing, Jenny flipped around and kicked him into the knee. It was like kicking a tree, but he felt the pain as well. With a roar he charged in a succession of wild swings. Jenny kept her distance with a couple of backflips, instantly pressing the attack as McNair stumbled away, his eyes searching for his wand.

Jenny allowed herself a split-second to glance aside. Her brother was still there, nursing Jerry. He watched them intently, ready to step in but so far willing to leave the fight to her. He curtly gestured towards the magical eye accompanying him. Cast by Flitwick, it still accompanied him, a masterpiece of magic in itself. Surviving even the dreamscape and still apparently operational was an impressive accomplishment. _So the audience is watching this fight_ , Jenny mused. _I wonder whether Aurors are already on their way. Time to end this!_

Jenny narrowed her eyes, feeling the rage bubble in her heart. This man had somehow got the Grindylows to attack Fleur. The little pests had endangered Michael as well. He struck Hermione, tried to get her soul sucked out by those damned cloak-beasts. A wonderful soul would have been lost to the world without Harry's intervention. And now he tried to kill her with that axe of his like she was some mindless beast.

Harry already sensed the Aurors coming. They would arrive within the next minutes, too late to hinder what was about to happen. Jenny was still bleeding from a couple of wounds, McNair was hissing in pain every now and then, and the area was showing traces of the fight with deep slashes into the earth and cuts in the bark of trees. The fight had lasted quite a while, much too long for Harry's taste as he was reduced to watching the show. But this was Jenny's fight, and she had to end this. To show – both to herself and the wizarding world – that she wasn't a helpless squib but an accomplished fighter on her own. And end it she did.

Step by step, McNair had manoeuvred Jenny to the spot where his wand was still waiting for him. He thought himself unobtrusive, but – partly because of the lack of time – hadn't the finesse to hide his intention. His tactic was predictable: a wild slash to force Jenny back, expecting her to back away as she had done dozens of times before, and following up with a fast grab to the ground. It happened differently. Instead of taking a step back, Jenny rotated, her feet never leaving the ground, her surprisingly strong hands deflecting the axe and grabbing the handle. _She's pushing her Adept strength into this_ , Harry recognized the move. It was one move that would never succeed against a sword wearer but was appropriate against this kind of weapon. Jenny continued her rotation, using the momentum to wrestle the axe away from McNair. Executing a full circle, she changed her grip, the axe now resting in her hands as necessary for really wielding it, and slashed against McNair. The shocked man was barely able to dodge it, the blade cutting through robe, shirt and skin. It was barely a scratch and looked like Jenny didn't know how to handle such a huge weapon. That impression, however, was faulty.

 _She's playing with him_. Harry suppressed a smirk, his eyes hard. His hands still hurt from the Dementors' coldness. Jerry was still unconscious, if stabilized. No, he did not feel an ounce of pity for the huge man. Jenny followed up with another slash, the weapon looking weird and far over-sized in her small hands; this one was easily dodged by McNair, and allowed him to pick up his wand. For a second, a brutal grin crossed his face. With a wand back in his hand, he felt vastly superior again. He was a wizard after all, coming from an ancient bloodline famous for their fighting abilities for hundreds of years. He was allowed to kill the girl, and he intended on doing so.

 _Piercing Hex!_

Jenny stepped to the left, actually looking bored.

 _Cutting Curse!_

The girl dodged and counterattacked, nicking McNair's calf with the axe. He screamed and stumbled back, sending a pair of cutters towards her, the aim terrible enough that Jenny barely had to move an inch.

The first Auror came in sight. McNair, realizing how difficult it was to hit this rubber ball he faced, chose a different spell as a last-ditch attempt. "Bombarda!" The blasting curse smashed into the ground, punching a deep hole into the earth and filling the air with grass and sand. Only: Jenny wasn't there anymore. Jumping into the air, she somersaulted over his head, hitting him with the oaken handle of the axe. McNair staggered around, not fully aware of his surroundings, eyes glazed.

"Bombarda!"

 _One of the most important talents of a true fighter is his ability to learn and adapt_ , Harry recited one of his father's lessons. Apparently, McNair never had one Remus Lupin to teach him that lesson, so he tried the blasting curse a second time with an equally unrewarding outcome. Only this time he targeted high, presumably in the hope to hit the girl if she tried to jump again. Instead, Jenny crouched low, the magic of his spell only filling the empty air above her. Rotating again, she whirled the axe full-circle. Jenny loosened the grip a little, allowing the handle to slip until she had the top end of it in her hands. Using the entire length of the weapon and the speed and force of it after a three-fourths circle, she smashed the axe head into the ribcage a hand span below his outstretched wand arm. The blade slipped between two ribs, breaking both of them through the impact. Not that this troubled McNair for long. He stood there, stock still, and utter shock in his eyes. He tried to move or say something, but was unable to do so. Jenny let go of the axe, knowing that the fight was over. For a few long seconds, McNair was still standing there like a tree, the axe still lodged into his side. As he succumbed to the wound at last and toppled to the ground, Harry had only one thought in his mind.

"Timber!"

.

 _ **A/N**_

 _This chapter got quite a bit longer than expected, but I didn't want to cut it in two parts. Hope you enjoyed it. Next time: repercussions._

 _The last weeks have been very exhausting workwise and I'm behind my intended schedule now. It will stay this way for the rest of the year, I fear, so I don't know how or when I'll be able to publish the next chapters. I'll try to stay with the "one chapter every two weeks" schedule, but I can't promise._


	21. Chapter 21 Time to relax

**A Time to relax**

.

 _ **Ministry of Magic**_

.

Three days ago, the second task ended with a highly unexpected result: Walden McNair died, killed by a Squib. The sharp blade of his own axe ended his life under the eyes of hundreds of spectators, shuddering in a mix of delight and disgust.

Today, Peter Pettigrew, under his usual cloak and cover of the one and only Lord Sirius Black, meandered through the halls of the Ministry. He stopped now and then for some small talk and flirt with one of the witches gushing all over him. It was easy to forget how they weren't in heat because of him but the reputation, charm and body of Peter's youth friend. In the beginning, he had been too clumsy in his behaviour. Luckily, they put it on his extended stay in Azkaban which gathered even more sympathy. _Still recovering_ , they whispered. Slowly he got the gist of it, remembering all those times he watched Sirius enviously. Peter quite enjoyed pretending to be Sirius. _Who is the winner now Sirius, hey? Yeah, me, poor old Peter is. And you're the loser._

He had only a hazy idea of the ritual his master had planned, but knew it would mean the death of Sirius' soul – and the end of his time as the _prize-winning smile_ effigy. _Perhaps my master will let me play his double now and then_ , Peter mused. It was possible. His master would surely need an alibi from time to time. Still, he intended to make the best of the next few months. He wouldn't leave the Ministry without arranging some date for tonight, with some beautiful but not too bright witch. For a second, the image of Dolores Umbridge invaded his mind. _Not that one_ , he shuddered. He shall flirt with her in a few minutes, but the thought of touching her nearly made him ill.

 _Sirius_ nodded curtly to the Auror guarding the entrance to the Minister's wing. To the man belonged to the small group of unimportant families of Purebloods following his master's lead: grey but not too fond of Muggles, and convinced of the magic-users' superiority. Their new motto was to foster talent and upbringing above blood. His master expected old but weak families to renew their blood through thoughtful marriages. Even talented Muggleborns were acceptable – as long as they cut ties with their birth families. There were also secret talks about abducting magical children from Muggle families and obliviating them to give them a _proper_ education. With blood adoptions they could easily be integrated into their new-found families. Some old sympathisers didn't care much for the loss in mayhem and murder, but in the long run this moderated course would be more successful and could even be accepted by many greys and a few light families. His master believed it, and for now Peter did too. That didn't mean they had to play nice all the time though. They only had to be more careful, not to draw their master's wrath. Avoiding suspicion or discovery at all cost was one of the prime directives of the new order.

For today, however, something different had to be taken care of. That's why he had to be there, playing nice with a creature as disgusting as Dolores Umbridge.

 _Let's get this over with_ , Peter gulped, as he reached the door and knocked.

.

"It's just disgusting," Dolores whined, offering him a cup of tea in one of her ugly cat cups.

"It sure is," Peter nodded gravely. They had been speaking about the events for a while, Peter making good use of Sirius' most-charming self. The woman's simpering voice and fluttering eyebrows – her attempt at seduction it seemed - gave him a stomach ache.

McNair's body was still warm when the Healers arrived, pronouncing him dead. The Auror accompanying him was alive and only moderately hurt. Traces of an Imperious were still noticeable. Luckily, the man didn't know anything compromising about their plans or even their part in the whole affair. According to him, it was the deed of a single man who had gone mad. They brought the girls to St Mungo's to take care of their injuries. Regretfully, both had survived and would recover reasonably fast. They had still been in the Hospital when people demanded for the Squib to be put on trial for murder. Some even condemned Harry's decision to kill the Dementors instead of merely driving them off. Peter admitted that he had been shocked and a little afraid at this show of his abilities. While not fully indestructible, it was a rare occurrence for a Dementor to die. Usually, it needed quite some powerful magic or very specialised knowledge to accomplish such a thing. Neither should have been in the boy's grasp.

"Another instance of Headmaster Dumbledore messing with justice," Sirius sighed gravely.

"Actually, he didn't" Umbridge answered, surprising Peter. "He convinced Cornelius to drop the charges against Potter for killing those dear Dementors, but nobody ever expected us to go through with those, not against the boy-who-lived." Peter suppressed a shudder. Only Umbridge would call a horror like Dementors "dear". Even Hagrid didn't include them in his usual "misunderstood creature" sermons. Umbridge looked a tad queasy herself, probably because of her involvement in the whole matter. McNair had only been able to temporarily free those Dementors because of her lax monitoring. Now, she feared the incoming investigation. "But he was less involved with the girls. It actually looked like Dumbledore wanted to get rid of them. I overheard, quite accidentally naturally, how he tried to convince Cornelius to offer that Squib the chance to return to her home country instead of standing trial."

Peter was silent for a while, pondering what he just heard. His master would be interested in such a piece of information. In the end, Dumbledore's behaviour wasn't a surprise. There had already been several attempts to isolate the boy, something actually shared by his master. However Harry put an end to this by threatening to leave: _"Hermione and Jenny get cleared, or I leave England immediately."_ He would have to return for the third task naturally, but his master wanted him around for the coming months – him and his friends. The Bain-boy in particular needed to be here for Potter to witness what his master had planned for the end of March.

"Madam Bones is the one stalling the persecution now," Umbridge explained. "I don't know her reasons, but she has been quite annoying about it." _Interesting, very interesting_ , Peter thought. _Why would the Head of the DMLE show such an active interest in this case?_

"Perhaps it is better this way, and we should graciously accept it," Peter offered after a while. He stopped the woman's rant with a gesture. "Please listen: We know that this attack on the Delacours had been the act of a madman, acting on his own, and without the support or tacit consent of the Ministry or anybody else."

Umbridge's eyes widened immediately understanding his line of thought. While she had been giddy about the attack, despising Veelas nearly as much as werewolves, it had started an international incident of epic proportions. Dumbledore was reeling from the event and its political repercussions, and Minister Fudge wasn't faring much better. Declaring it the act of a lone nut would moderate the international reactions. And it would protect her as well. She nodded slowly.

"McNair's death is a loss," Peter sighed deeply. "He was always able to solve special kinds of problems when they arose." Bloody problems, Dolores nodded again. "But he wasn't a true wizard, as he proved by dying. No real wizard would prefer an axe to a wand. An axe, Dolores! He wasn't even using a traditional sword but the weapon of a butcher." He shook his head in disappointment. "And no real wizard – or witch" he bowed to Dolores which she accepted with a giggle, "would lose a duel to a Squib."

"No, you're right, she wouldn't." Dolores puffed her ample chest, accepting with her usual lack of grace that he called her a _real witch_. "Continuing the investigation would be… damaging to the Ministry's reputation, draw too much attention to something that should be forgotten as soon as possible."

"Quite my thoughts, dear Dolores," Peter showed a toothy smile, forcing his stomach to ignore her simpering. "McNair brought this onto himself, we don't want the Ministry - or Merlin bewares the Minister - to get connected to this vile deed." _No_ , Dolores mouthed, accepting his words as gospel. "I expect you to take care of this, Dolores. This was the unfortunate act of a madman. The Minister is of course disgusted by this surprising show of confusion on McNair's part and offers his condolences. The Squib girl deserves neither prosecution nor accolades."

Dolores grimaced. There had been an equally loud minority that demanded honours and rewards for the "Heroes of the Lake". They even wanted to congratulate that Bain-boy – the vile fraud. That was unacceptable. "I'll take care of it."

.

All in all, Peter rated the day as quite successful. He had convinced Umbridge to do his master's work, strengthened her bond to Lord Sirius Black – something that could only be useful to his master at a later time – and even got a date for the evening. Edgecombe wasn't the most beautiful woman but acceptable, and her working with the Floo Network Authority was only a welcome bonus. Sooner or later, his master would draw her closer into his group of sycophants, why not start early? And his master would be content with the conversation's result as well. With the Squib girl free, Harry would stay in the country. And perhaps his – well, _Sirius'_ – part in the decision making even produced a bit of goodwill from the boy. Peter didn't expect it – not as long as Lovegood was messing with his heart and despised Black – but you could always hope.

 _Yes, a successful day indeed._

.

 _ **Aberdeen – Fourth of March**_

.

Harry had no doubt about Jenny being close by, always hidden from sight but ready to protect them in case of need. She kept an eye on the group of friends as they walked through the windy streets of Aberdeen. She had been even more protective of him and his friends since the task. At least, she was free from those silly accusations now. Harry knew that Alice had been the one to inform Madam Bones. She still had connections into the DMLE from the time her husband had been a respected Auror. Sirius Black had sent Harry a letter as well about his part in the matter of freeing the girls, certainly to collect some goodwill for his _selfless deed_. Luna had burned the letter, fury in her eyes. Harry had needed to snog her good to keep her from flooing to Black Manor and show him just what she thought about it. Not that Harry complained too much about the arduous task.

At least, it was somewhat sunny today, the winter having finally left Scotland. Spring invaded the land with blossoming flowers and the first warm rays finding their way between the clouds, luring people into the open. With Jenny and Hermione both free and recovered from their injuries, the boys had decided to go through with their promise of catching up on the missed Valentine's Day. There would be no Madam Puddyfoot today, no scary singing and no overwhelming amount of the colours red and pink. Hermione remembered the infamous Lockhardt-Valentine with a shudder. Instead the girls got beautiful flowers picked by Michael, little presents and candy – and a day with their boyfriends far away from prying eyes. They decided to go Muggle for the day, hoping to avoid magical attention for a few hours. The past week had been frustrating. Everybody had something to say about the events, either scorning them or lauding them like they were the best thing that happened since the Founders. Harry found both to be excessive and annoying. He wanted to be left alone, and he knew his friends felt the same.

"I know your mother wasn't happy about you arriving via Dreamscape," Hermione whispered softly, "but I'm thrilled you decided to risk it. When you arrived… I was all run down and wouldn't have lasted much longer. Thank you."

Harry nodded and smiled gently. _Not happy_ was an understatement. Michiko had been thunderous in her fury. Back at home, she would have grounded him for the rest of the term, perhaps even longer. In the end, Harry assumed she was far angrier that he had been forced to take such a risk than anything else. There had been no other way to rescue the girls in time, abridging the way via Dreamscape had been the only choice. Michiko knew that, didn't mean she liked it.

"You're welcome!" He responded with a small bow. "He was an evil man. This McNair I mean." The news about the extent of his misdeeds had shocked a lot of people. Compulsion charms on some of the Mermen to attack the younger sister; a potion to make the Grindylows attack Fleur; not to speak of the Imperio he used on that Auror and his decision to bring a pair of Dementors along. McNair had been officially damned, accompanied by an apology of the Minister to the Delacours – just not to either Jenny or Hermione. Harry remembered that fact quite clearly and despised the Minister a bit more because of it.

And he had a name to add to his list of vile humans: _Dolores Umbridge_ , Ministry official responsible for "Dementor commitment". It was the same woman that enforced a couple of Werewolf laws in the past years, greatly worsening their situation. Harry knew that Remus was in contact with many British Werewolves, smaller packs that tried to get a living the peaceful way, following the lead of Fabian Treskow and keeping their distance to Greyback and his brutes. People like Umbridge made it nearly impossible for them to have an honourable life and drove them into Greyback's arms. It was a cycle of hate, violence and prejudices that had to be broken, the sooner the better.

"Dumbledore wasn't happy either about our ability to use this way of transport on the grounds of Hogwarts," Harry explained after a moment.

"It's a security risk," Hermione understood.

"Yes," Harry agreed. "And it's one way to circumvent his control on the castle… and us."

"You've always a way out. Naturally, he would hate that," Hermione smirked, her opinion of the headmaster taken another step down.

Harry shrugged. "That's his problem. He can't do anything about it, not without doing serious damage to the ghostly inhabitants of the castle." Ghosts and Spirits were closely connected to the Dreamscape. Paul had warned the headmaster that closing it off could destroy the weaker ones and would hurt the elder and stronger ones. Messing with the Dreamscape would force the Castle Spirit's hands. "In the end, he is run down as well. One more accident like this and he'll lose his job."

"Yes, the newspapers were quite damning about his lack of foresight. I'm certain Malfoy and his cronies really liked that part."

Harry shrugged. "For once, I share Malfoy's opinion."

While Dumbledore had been able to stay in his office, it had only been by a whisker. France hadn't been happy about nearly losing two of her precious daughters. Only Percy had been lauded by both the national and international press for his foresight to demand Portkeys for champions and hostages alike. That the judges didn't follow his advice wasn't his fault. Not that the matter endeared him that much to his boss. "Percy is a good friend."

"Yes, he is," Hermione smiled. "Penny has chosen well."

"We want to visit them on Easter. Do you want to accompany us?"

"I would like that."

.

"What are you thinking about?" Hermione asked.

The group of friends had stopped at a public playground. A dozen children were playing loudly, enjoying one of the first days they could do this outdoors without rain or cold. A few parents were watching them from the sides, smiling broadly as Luna joined the fun. The children loved her and willingly followed her lead, having no problems believing her stories about some fantasy creatures hiding in the bushes or invisible in the air. The doubts would start later, once they grew up, Harry mused.

"We still don't know why the Nargles are doing this."

"Protecting Luna by confusing her from time to time?"

Harry nodded slowly. "Have you ever watched out for other Nargles?"

"Yes," Hermione frowned, remembering her experiments with the spell she learned from Paul and Harry. It was always exhausting to use it, but that didn't stop her. "I've noticed a few. The Whomping Willow has quite a gathering, and a few are flying around here and there." She hid the gesture and whispered the words as she cast the detection spell and looked around. "A few of them are here as well, but only a handful it seems – aside from Luna's head."

"Aside from Luna's head, exactly," Harry agreed. "But why her?"

"Perhaps they simply like her? Some people draw cats or dogs to them, and there is this story about that American horse whisperer. Why not someone being attractive to Nargles? We don't exactly understand how they feel or think."

"Might be," Harry nodded slowly. "Yes, it is possible."

"But you don't believe it?"

"No, I don't." Harry sighed and watched his girlfriend, a thoughtful expression on his face. "What if it is the result of her mother's influence? Somehow she protected her daughter when everything went to hell on that day. Her mother died, Luna survived."

"Some kind of Mother's ward charm?" Hermione asked.

"Something like that, maybe."

"It certainly would explain a lot. If that's the case, we have to thank her the next time we meet her."

"Yes, we do," Harry agreed.

"Do you think we'll meet her again?" Hermione wondered, remembering that meeting in the Dreamscape actively.

"I have no doubt. She's still near, I can feel it."

Hermione looked around, not expecting to see – or feel – anything. She had to trust him in this. Nonetheless, she whispered a "thank you" into the wind.

.

"What are they whispering about?" Hermione asked a bit later. They were nearing their next stop, a restaurant where they intended to eat with Jenny and Paul.

Parvati turned around and glanced towards Harry and Michael who were following them, deep in conversation. "Fipsy," she replied.

"Fipsy?" Hermione frowned. It was a name a house-elf would use, but none she knew.

Parvati nodded. "It's something Michael remembered back at the playground. One of the older children helped her sister with her jacket. Apparently, that caused a small flashback. Michael remembered Fipsy doing such things for him in the past."

"And who is this Fipsy? A house-elf?"

"Yes," Parvati confirmed her guess. "She was around when Michael was very small, a toddler actually."

Hermione frowned deeply. "She could know something about…"

"Yes, that's what the boys are hoping for."

"Did he try to call this Fipsy? Perhaps, she's willing to follow his call. House-elves are very loyal, especially to children they once cared for." Hermione had learned quite a thing about house-elves, in part thanks to her visits to Matron Mathilda.

"He wants to try it after our return to Hogwarts."

"Do you think this Fipsy belongs to the Headmaster?"

"Possibly," Parvati replied, not looking happy as she thought about Dumbledore. She wasn't a fan of his anymore, her trust in the formerly godlike man seriously shaken. "We'll have to wait and see."

.

Parvati glanced around, grinning conspirational. "Harry told me about your Patronus."

Hermione blushed, turning as red as a tomato. "He didn't," she exclaimed.

Parvati rolled her eyes. "Nothing to be ashamed of; I'm quite proud that you were able to cast the spell, and the fully corporal form as well." Parvati hadn't been able to do that so far. She created a solid shield now, but nothing like a creature.

"Thank you." For a moment, she hoped Harry hadn't told her more about it. It was a hope dashed very quickly.

"But the form," Parvati winked. "Telling, very telling my dear." Hermione's blush deepened. "But he was right, yes? That your Patronus is a…"

Hermione clamped her hand over her friend's mouth. "Not a word," she hissed.

Luna would have licked her fingers to get rid of the hand. Parvati bit.

Her grin broadened at Hermione's face. "Really a…"

"Look were there," Hermione interrupted and gestured towards the restaurant, only to pale as the door opened and someone exited with Jenny and Paul.

"Greg?"

.

 _ **Some hours later**_

They returned to Hogwarts, happy but also a tad sad about this special day ending far too soon. Greg had said his farewell in Aberdeen. Michael smiled fondly as he thought about it, remembering Hermione's blush as the stout boy kissed her on the cheek, a new amulet dangling around her neck. Like the other girls, she got flowers, candies and a present – the present being that amulet, an aquamarine infused with Greg's magic. It would only last a year and a day, he explained, but Paul had promised to teach him next summer how to make it permanent. They were a cute couple, the fragile girl and the hulking boy who was so tender around her, the bossy bookworm turning into a blushing teenager around him.

Yes, Hermione had been shocked about his presence, but positively. Harry and Michael had convinced Greg that their meeting in Aberdeen wouldn't put Hermione in danger. It had been the right decision. While there was no doubt in Michael's eyes that Greg's feeling had only intensified over the past months and Hermione obviously was ready now to admit that this feeling wasn't one-sided. They still had to be careful and rarely spend time together. This thrice-dating day was a very welcome change.

Now, they were back at Hogwarts, and Michael had something to do. They had spoken at length about it. They decided he had to be alone so as not to frighten or confuse the house elf he intended to call. His friends weren't too far away, and he had a guess that Jerry was keeping an eye on him, but apart from that, he was the sole human entering the summoning chamber. It was Saturday so no class was occupying the room. Actually, his friends presumed any place would work. Either Fipsy wanted to heed his call – and was able doing so – or not. The chamber was only chosen because Harry expected Fipsy to be more relaxed, and Luna agreed with that assessment.

Michael looked around and sighed. No reason to delay this. There was nothing he had to prepare, no incantation to remember or spell to cast, only calling her name. "Only," he whispered. The flashback had hit him like a brick to the face, the picture of a house elf taking care of little Michael. Only, she had called him Harry back then. Throughout the day, more and more pictures of those days invaded his mind. He had been happy if a little lonely. She played with him, read him bedtime stories and showed him the ways around flowers. _"No harsh plucking! You be gentle."_ Fipsy had been the one to inspire the love for flowers in little Michael, a love accompanying him until today. How could he ever forget it? How could he ever forget…?

"Fipsy!"

He had barely whispered her name with the urge of calling her, as a soft plop announced her arrival. A second later, Michael found his arms filled by a weeping mass, as Fipsy was clinging to him like he was her long-lost son. In a way, he was.

"Young Master called Fipsy. Young master is back. Young master hasn't forgotten Fipsy," she wailed.

"Never, Fipsy, never," Michael replied, patting her gently on the small back. "You were my first friend."

Fipsy let go and took a step back, carefully watching the teenager and poking him into the chest. "Young master isn't eating enough." She cocked her head and blinked. "But master is looking healthy."

Michael smiled. She was like he remembered her, perhaps looking a bit older and frailer. She wasn't a young house elf by far, and with his newfound knowledge about her race, he wondered how old she really was. "Fipsy, I have a question for you."

"Yes?" Fipsy eyed him warily.

"Do you belong to Headmaster Dumbledore?"

Fipsy relaxed a little. _What kind of question did she expect?_ Michael wondered. "Fipsy has served the House of Dumbledore for a long time," she said and nodded, her ears flapping wildly.

"And you took care of me for my first years as well."

Fipsy blinked and kneaded her hands. "Fipsy took care of young master for a while before he turned three," she replied a little evasively.

 _What was she hiding?_ Michael narrowed his eyes. "How old was I when you first saw me?"

Fipsy's left eye twitched. According to Hermione that was a sure sign of the question being borderline forbidden to answer. He was on the right track, it seemed. "Young master was older than one but not two." That was a little vague. Apparently, Fipsy wanted to avoid him learning about his exact age. But why? Would his true birthday betray his identity? What to ask next?

"Fipsy, why do you call me young master. I remember you always called me Master Harry when you took care of me."

Fipsy looked nervous now and glanced around as if looking for someone. Michael had decided to withdraw the question when Fipsy whispered. "But young master isn't Harry."

Michael paled. Had she known back then? "Since when did you know?"

"Can't tell, can't tell." Fipsy was swaggering now, and Michael hastily stopped her. "You don't have to answer, Fipsy, it's all right." Fipsy showed him a thankful smile. "And you're right: I'm not Master Harry – not anymore. The real Harry returned. He is a nice one. You would like him."

"Fipsy knows. Matron Mathilda told Fipsy." She blinked teary-eyed. "But he isn't young master."

"No, he isn't," Michael replied. Was there anything left he could ask her? Fipsy looked sad and struggling with something. Like she wanted to tell him a secret but didn't know how. Perhaps another path to try out. "You could call me Master Michael if you want."

Fipsy shook her head, her ears flying wildly as she did so.

"But it's my name." Did she know? Did she know his real name?

"Noooo," Fipsy wailed. "That wouldn't be right."

Michael reeled back, even more as a second house elf appeared, an utterly furious Matron Mathilda. "Stop it right now. Fipsy, calm yourself," she thundered, her voice having an immediate and obvious impact on the other house elf. "Return to your duties, Fipsy. And you won't heed young master's call until he knows his real name."

Michael wanted to complain, but it was too late. Fipsy disappeared, obviously relieved to get away, and he was left alone with Matron Mathilda glaring at him. "You hurt her."

"I know," Michael said slightly defeated. "I didn't want to but…"

"No buts," Matron Mathilda hissed. "She loves you. We don't hurt people with their love."

"You're right. I'm sorry."

"Good," Matron Mathilda replied. "You should. Don't you forget it." She calmed down a bit. "I don't know her secret before you ask. I have a guess, but nothing more. She wanted to tell you something, but her oath was keeping her back. I felt her struggling against the bounds. It injured her. A few questions more and she would…" Mathilda huffed. "Don't. Ever. Do. This. Again. Do you understand? You have to solve this riddle in another way."

"I understand."

"I hope you do. Otherwise I will have to show you why even the Headmaster respects me."

Michael gulped. He would very much like to forgo that experience. "That won't be necessary." And he meant it.

.

 _ **Headmaster's office – the same time**_

.

The past week had been exhausting. He had lost much of the goodwill he gathered over the years, even among his oldest friends and staunchest supporters. There was actually talk about him going senile. And that was the friendliest of comments. Others speculated whether he even cared any more for the welfare of his students and guests. One especially ugly rumour tried to brush him with a supposedly hidden Veela hate as if he wanted those girls to die. Luckily, both had survived. That he hadn't been able to get rid of the Squib-girl in the aftermath was another defeat, albeit a smaller and unimportant one. _Another sign of my waning influence,_ Albus mused. Even his candies did nothing to lighten his mood today.

In the eyes of the public, both Potter and Longbottom were heroes now. To a smaller degree, this applied to the girls as well, and even Percy Weasley had gotten his heap of praise because of his foresight and advice. Everybody was applauding their deeds, but not to his. Nobody was able to see how difficult his job was. He had to handle everything like a juggler working with flaming torches, always in fear of burning his own beard. Nobody was able to help him in this, to see the big picture. He let go a shuddering breath. After the events around Halloween, this was the second strike against him. It was as if someone was out there to get him into trouble. He wouldn't overcome a third attack on his reputation. He had to be careful, and that in a time where he had to plan the demise of Harry Potter in a way that furthered his long-term plans.

The boy didn't believe it, but his scar was a Horcrux. Albus had known this small but essential fact since laying eyes on the boy for the first time after that night. For a few years, he had pushed the thought away, but with Potter's return, the idea returned with a vengeance. The boy had to die. _Done and dusted!_ There was no way to avoid it, and no talk about it only being some magical residue would stop him from finding a way to end that incredible danger to wizard-kind. The boy had to die, preferably while fighting Voldemort. The mirror… the mirror could be the solution. Years ago, he had trapped a significant sliver of Voldemort's soul in that magical mirror. If he was able to put that sliver into something else, another person or a dangerous creature, he could instigate a fight between Potter and that part of Voldemort. Either they would kill each other, or Voldemort would kill Potter and Albus could destroy him afterwards. Naturally, he couldn't allow anybody to learn the truth. They wouldn't understand. But with careful planning – yes, this could turn out being the solution to this mess. Now, he only had to decide on the creature – or person – to use as a host.

 _The prophecy will be fulfilled and everybody will now that I saved magical Britain, again._

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Eleventh of March**_

.

A day to relax, a day to enjoy a little peace – for most inhabitants of Hogwarts at least; _Dunderheads, all of them_ , Tom sneered. He had little patience for the students surrounding him. The teachers weren't much better. Professor Snape would have been an adequate conversation partner, but Tom didn't trust him, not after what he had seen so far and the stories Pettigrew told him. Draco Malfoy had been full of praise, but he was a child, naïve and unable to look deeper than the surface. No, the time wasn't right to trust Snape with the truth, perhaps it never would be. And it was hardly appropriate for Ginny Weasley to try her hand at befriending the dour professor, expectations aside that Snape's only reaction would be to cut off the offered hand with a sneer on his face.

No, he had to stay with his small circle of supporters, for now. A group that had been diminished even more by McNair's death. Tom had been surprised by the shown abilities of Potter and the Squib-girl, impressed and – he hated to admit – a little intimidated. Potter's ability to enter the Dreamscape was an unwelcome surprise, putting another damper onto his plans. He had to find a way to stop the boy from doing this in June. It wouldn't do for the ritual to start only for the sacrificial lamb to vanish into thin air. Malfoy, Crouch and Pettigrew – he only had those three servants so far, none of them able to help him with the preparations, at least not with anything more than a bit of legwork.

 _I will have to depart a few days before the ritual_ , he mused. _I'll need time for the last preparations._ Pettigrew had been ordered to visit the location of the ceremony in advance, but some things were just beyond the grasp of his lazy mind. Barty Crouch was of better use, generally speaking, but he wasn't an academic either, not really well-versed in the Dark Arts. And it showed that he had lost many years through his imprisonment. Among the three, Malfoy was the most promising. In a few years…

 _Malfoy? That's the best you have? Pity!_ A voice interrupted his thoughts. Tom frowned, his grimace changing into a wicked smile. Since the second task, the soul of Ginny Weasley had gotten more defiant with every passing day. She was more active now and even starting conversations from time to time. Sometimes she applauded him, apparently sharing his feelings concerning Dumbledore. Most of the time she tried to sound haughty, to belittle his plans and everything. The reason was simple: she was frantic and accepted that nobody would look through his little schemes in time. No, Ginny Weasley would die in three months, and the girl knew it. In a way, he liked her more this way. Yes, it disturbed his thoughts from time to time, her rambling and comments, but it was a welcome distraction. At least, she was intelligent and had a sharp wit – something most students certainly lacked.

 _Yes, Malfoy!_ Ginny would have gaped because of the willingly given answer – if she still had a mouth. _He has talent, only needs a firm hand and a bit of education_.

 _Something you'll give him?_ Ginny wondered. It wasn't like she had many conversation partners around these weeks… months… years. Even Tom was better than nothing.

Tom nodded. _After I adopted him_.

 _Adopt? Aren't his parents still…_ She hesitated, realisation dawning.

 _Yes, they're still alive,_ Tom cackled. _But accidents happen all the time – little accidents, deadly accidents, accidents of all kind_.

 _You want to kill Lucius Malfoy?_ Ginny sounded nearly ecstatic. She hated the man. The enmity between Malfoy and her father had influenced her before even meeting the man and his spawn. Without his carelessness, the diary would never have found its way into her hands. She would never have been possessed. Draco she hated even more, but for now, killing the father would have to do.

 _I definitely will,_ Tom confirmed.

 _Draco will inherit the Malfoy wealth, and with you adopting him_ …

 _I see you understand_.

 _And the mother?_ Ginny asked. She had seen the woman a couple of times, admiring her grace. Narcissa Malfoy was how she always imagined her mother to be – not the way her mother actually was, ungainly and without a sense for fashion. She wanted to be rich. She wanted to be invited to parties, adored and respected. Fine wine, fancy dresses and house-elves eager to fulfil her every wish – the daughter of Molly Weasley wouldn't have that, ever.

 _We'll see. If she accepts her role, if she is able to share my vision of Magical Britain, not much will change for her. Both Narcissa Malfoy and Andromeda Tonks will have to play their part, representing both ends of my policy_.

Ginny was silent for a while. Tom had spoken about those plans before. In the beginning, she had been surprised about his intention to accept Andromeda Tonks née Black, even going so far as to get her back into House Black. But thinking about it, the idea wasn't too far-fetched. Tom wanted to have the reputation of a conservative pureblood, thinking highly of upbringing and talent but not hateful towards Muggle-born. Andromeda Tonks would be able to convince many grey families that Tom aka Sirius Black was a safe choice, a man who was willing to uphold tradition, without the mayhem and bloodshed of earlier times. And having Narcissa Malfoy on his side certainly had its benefits as well. Ginny assumed Draco's mother to have many welcome connections among the darker families – families whose support Tom needed as well, preferably without exposing the truth of his identity.

Tom used her silence to concentrate on the potion he intended to brew in less than two weeks. Michael had been notified about the date and was eager to try it. Even his friends had been informed. Tom cackled again, amused by the support he got from Michael's friends. The Mudblood… no, he corrected himself. _The Muggle-born_ , he said carefully in his mind, rolling the word over his tongue. She had her uses. The healer Pettigrew got the formula from confirmed Tom's suspicion about Blood Adoption being a problem for the potion to operate at full efficiency. He had to adapt it, and Granger – and to a smaller degree the Patil girls – had been of assistance in his research. He could have done it without them, but why refuse what was freely offered? It had the bonus effect of relaxing Michael's friends. They knew what _Ginny_ was working on, putting their suspicious minds at ease. What would they think about it, should they ever learn the truth?

Thinking about it… he needed a scapegoat for Potter's death: someone to blame, to be found at the ritual's place and offered to the media and public, ending the investigation for good.

 _I'll have to think about that._

.

 _ **Southern Scotland – Fourteenth of March**_

.

The place gave him the creeps. _Why couldn't he have chosen the ritual I found in those documents?_ Peter griped. He had been so proud when he offered his master the papers he secured two years ago, papers the older Dark Lord had gathered and worked on for a resurrection ritual he intended to use back then. _Bones of the father, flesh of the servant and blood of the enemy_ … the ceremony was planned to take place on some mortuary, certainly creepy a location but much better than this place. Regretfully, the younger Dark Lord decided to use a different ritual, one that would transfer his soul into Black's body, allowing him to walk around openly with nobody even guessing the truth. _At least, he could have done it at Hogwarts or Hogsmeade_ , Peter sighed as he traipsed towards the ruins that were barely visible in the fog ahead. Today, he wasn't wearing the outlook of Sirius Black but used the hair of some Muggle for his Polyjuice Potion. The risk was very small of someone watching him today, but nonetheless he had to be careful.

Naturally, he knew quite well why it couldn't be. Not that his master would ever admit it, but it was obvious: his master was wary of the Hogwarts Castle Spirit. He wanted to avoid the Spirit's influence and interference at all costs. For weeks, he had been brooding, sitting over old, dusty documents, looking for the perfect place. And in the end, he found it. Peter stopped and looked around, warily listening to the wind. Perhaps it was imagination, but he could hear ghost voices in the air, howling in despair and anguish. His hand fumbled with the amulet around his neck. On his master's orders, he bought it in Knockturn Alley, one of the many darker artefacts on display at Borgin & Burke. It was meant to protect him from whatever inhabited this place. He really hoped it would work.

 _Flesh of the servant, willingly given_ – he had done precisely that a decade ago when he cut off his finger to put the blame of betrayal and murder on Sirius Black. He would have done it again, would have surrendered his pound of flesh for his master. However the stacks might even have gotten higher this time. Peter sighed. He liked this version of the Dark Lord more than the one he had known in the past. He was less prone to bursts of violence, more controlled and calculating. His Master even liked to use his well-developed charm from time to time, allowing Peter to see a glimpse of that man the Dark Lord had been in the beginning, able to sway a dozen sons from the most well-respected, influential and wealthy families all over Great Britain. For this man Peter was willing to give everything, to risk everything. Not out of fear as he had done in the past but because he believed in him. The Dark Lord gave him a place in life worth living for, and he would fight tooth and nail to keep it. He would do everything, even overcome his instinctual fear and his wish to flee this place. Instead, he stepped even closer.

Stones, dry scrubs and the paltry remains of some Roman manor, more hadn't survived the centuries. The Dark Lord had spoken about the place and told him some about its history. Peter assumed his master was more talkative because of the time he had to spend with other students. Even someone like Peter was a welcome change to that. Valentia, that's how he called it. Around here had been the Roman Province of Valentia, between the Hadrian's Wall and the Antonine Wall. Peter had always been good with memorising things. Understanding them had been the tricky part. But this was how he got his NEWTs: listening to Lupin and memorising facts. Endless hours Lupin had prattled on, Peter listening to his voice and cramming facts into his poor brain. Lupin was the only one among his former friends Peter didn't hate. Not that he would rescue him from the Dark Lord's wrath either.

He had only a rough idea of the ritual, barely enough to undertake some of the tasks that had to be done in advance. Those items his master had gathered would have to be there, somehow empowering the ritual without getting destroyed in the process. The same didn't count for the mirror – the same mirror that defeated his master two years ago, the proof of the risks they accepted with their plan. This time they wouldn't fail. His master would destroy the mirror, absorb the knowledge of his older self and transfer his spirit into Black's body. _Hopefully, he'll still be more like his younger self_ , Peter mused. _He hated the idea of the old master returning_. But he could only do his duty and wish for the best.

Peter shuddered as he entered the barely recognisable Roman Manor. Even he was able to feel it, the magic and the hate that permeated the place. According to his master, a couple of Leylines crossed below this place. He didn't doubt it for one second. According to old tales, this place once belonged to King Arthur – or to the Roman Centurion that had been the most believable example of the Muggle version of that man. Lucius Artorius Castus – that was his name back then. Despite those rumours, this place wasn't really well known, neither among wizards nor Muggles. Nobody was living nearby, despite the traces of several attempts at building houses. No tourists, no strollers, nobody had the nerve to approach the house. He shuddered again. _And neither would I if I had a choice_. Even without seeing them, he knew of the ghosts watching him with hateful eyes. Did the ghosts feel that they intended to desecrate the place, abuse the magic for their own ends? Without his amulet, he would already be dead, or at least would have lost his mind or soul, he had no doubt about it. Would they have attacked like Dementors and suck out his soul? He had no wish to find out.

 _Hopefully, all of this will be worth the effort_.

His master had given him clear orders. He wasn't interested in history, had no wish to learn the truth about Arthur living here more than a millennium ago, or if Merlin himself had used the place for his rituals as one of those dusty tomes claimed. No, he wanted to know whether there really was a functioning cellar. One that contained something his master really wished to make part of his ritual. He tried to explain it, spoke about the "a mediator between this world and the next", how it would strengthen the ritual and ease the path for his soul. He had this eerie glow in his eyes, and Peter hadn't dared to interrupt, to tell him that he had been lost after the third sentence. In the end, the explanation was unimportant. His master needed the cellar and its content, and Peter was willing to find it, despite the ghosts, his fear, and his utter wish to be anywhere but here.

 _Stairs_ – Peter smiled, relief and hope invading his heart. Careful not to slip or bump his head, he scurried down the stairs. "Lumos!" His smile broadened and split his face. His master had been right. The books had told the truth. There it was: The Temple of Janus.

.

 _ **Somewhere nearby**_

 _She_ was watching him, never losing patience, never feeling exhaustion. The Spirit of Hogwarts had warned _her_ about the ratty man and his master's plans. There were things at work _she_ didn't understand, things that prohibited the Castle from taking a more active stance. Perhaps the Spirit was more limited than she wanted the headmaster and everybody else to belief. _She_ however had no such bounds. This man posed a danger, a danger _she_ had to stop somehow. Around _her_ , the ghosts inhabiting the place were whirling around. They were angry, both about the man's intrusion and the amulet he was wearing. Why was he here? What was he looking for? The place had been deserted hundreds of years ago. He seemed to be more interested in the kind of magic permeating the place and especially the cellar. But why?

I'll watch you, little man, _she_ promised. I won't allow you to hurt my little girl.

.

 _ **A/N**_

 _A little excursion if you're interested in such things._

 _The area just north of the Hadrian's Wall had been in the hands of the Romans for a few decades. Lucius Artorius Castus served there for a few years. The mentioned Roman manor has no historical background I know of, I invented it._

 _Janus was a Roman god, mostly adored in Italy but sometimes in different countries as well, especially in his function as a protector of risky endeavours. Tom Riddle, however, is more interested in his aspect of duality (light/darkness, beginning/end, mediator between this world and the next)._

 _ **Fabian Treskow**_ _: another person on loan from my Harry/Daphne trilogy, a peaceful Werewolf leader and adversary of Greyback._

 _The next chapter is nearly finished. I intend to publish it on Christmas Eve. The story is finished 75% now. The epilogue is scheduled for around Easter 2019, hopefully my work won't thwart my plans._


	22. Chapter 22 Mother and Son

**Mother and Son**

.

" _Something will happen, soon. Something that could precipitate the decline of the Great Albus Dumbledore. Be ready. Have your eyes open and your wands at the ready. To the future of true magic."_

 _Second week of March 1995, Lord Sirius Black among a group of sympathisers to the true cause; unknown source._

.

 _ **Hogwarts – 20th of March**_

.

Michael Bain was unaware of how much his life would soon change when finishing his preparations for the night's ritual. Well, Ginny had told him about her intention to brew the difficult family-bond revelation potion tonight and its expected effect. But the exact result was fairly open, unpredictable and not without dangers. Nobody knew whether the potion would even work for him. And should it work, would he be recognisable to others afterwards? Would one of the teachers detect some kind of family similarity, perhaps even be reminded of a former student? How often had someone told Harry about how he had his mother's eyes. Despite Harry hating that talk, Michael hoped his future had something similar in petto for him. Would the change be perceptible enough to force Headmaster Dumbledore to admit the truth about his heritage? He was reeling from the possibilities, his mind not daring to share the hope his heart felt. In parts, he decided to go through with this long-planned familiar ritual to distract his troubled mind and heart from the day ahead.

"Are you really alright doing this?" He asked the snow-white owl who had been calmly watching him, fondling the soft feathers of her neck. Hedwig blinked only, her calmness assuaging the boy that this was the right thing to do.

"It won't hurt her in the least, you know. And if you – or Hedwig – ever change your mind, you can always rescind the bond. It's a two-way bond but a two-way choice as well." Greg's voice was unsurprisingly gentle. Michael had learnt about this side of the huge boy throughout the last weeks, and witnessed it more each time he met him at Hagrid's or Paul's. Greg, under the Shaman's guidance, had extended his knowledge about the care of animals. He was learning how to quicken his healing, his abilities growing by leaps and bounds, much to Paul's delight. Hagrid was also quite impressed. Dumbledore remained un-amused – especially about the bond of friendship slowly forming between the Slytherin boy and the half-giant. He had even tried to warn Hagrid off, talking about the dangers of befriending a Slytherin and son of a Death-Eater. For once, the half-giant stood up for his own beliefs and continued to trust the boy instead of bowing to the wishes of his mentor. Dumbledore only took it as another sign of the boy's bad influence.

The ritual Michael intended to use came from the book Madam Longbottom offered him last Christmas. It was a familiar-bond ritual that would strengthen the connection between owl and boy, increasing the health, intelligence and abilities of Hedwig as well as her life-expectancy. While a regular snow owl could expect to live about ten, and magical ones between twenty and twenty-five years, the bond would increase Hedwig's life-expectancy by another fifty years at least, perhaps even more if the bond was especially strong and the owl happy with its bond-master. Only the master's untimely death – or his strongly felt wish to end the bond – would break this link. Unlike other rituals, this one would offer Hedwig a choice as well, both today and in the future. This was one of the reasons he had chosen it, with both Hermione and Greg whole heartedly agreeing.

Michael opened the book for the last time. The page he needed was well-used, as he read it dozens of times. He examined every word, talking with his friends about every sentence, phrasing and description, until there was no doubt left that he understood it completely and knew it by heart. He couldn't endanger his feathery friend by being careless. This wasn't unlike potions: a single misstep could be disastrous and understanding the thoughts behind the formula could help to counter any small errors bound to happen. He then gathered the necessary ingredients very carefully: flowers found under the full moon; drops of morning dew collected with a special crystal vial. He got the later from an unusually open-minded Professor Snape. Hagrid had offered the requested feathers and hairs from all kind of forest creatures. Even Filch had been helpful, remembering a special river gravel he found years ago at the lake's beach. And naturally, Madam Longbottom had accompanied him as he collected the other herbs, while Harry convinced one of the century-old white oaks to willingly offer him one of its smaller branches. Parvati and Hermione had been with him for endless hours as he practised how to draw the rune circle, while Luna picked out the best possible components, following rules only she understood and that everyone trusted her with.

No, without his friends he wouldn't even dared to gather the materials. Without them, he wouldn't have stood a chance to finish the ritual successfully. While there were other rituals, smaller and simpler ones, with similar if weaker effects, this was the oldest and by far strongest in the book. The exact result had yet to be seen, but Paul was certain it would be worth it. And now his friends were waiting for him. Well, only two of them, as the others were needed somewhere else. Harry and Greg offered their assistance weeks before, and he readily accepted. Paul would oversee the whole thing, as would Madam Longbottom, but the work would be done by Michael. Harry and Greg would only be helping hands: none of them would touch Hedwig or set foot into the ritual circle tonight, only Michael.

Tonight was about a boy and his owl, and the magic connecting them. Michael lifted Hedwig into the air, the snow owl riding on his arm.

"We're ready."

.

 _ **Potion Lab – a few hours later**_

.

Tom had no idea how the Granger-girl had been able to convince Snape not only to allow them to use the room but to make a simple but not unimportant change to it as well. Adding a window was simple for the professor at least. It would have been impossible for anybody else, even for Tom. He looked around. Yes, this would do. Without telling Snape the truth, it wouldn't have been possible for _Ginny Weasley_ to convince him. Sending Draco would have started more questions than he liked to answer. So, he had already been thinking about alternatives when Granger came back and told him about Snape's consent, giving them access to the potion lab this night only.

"Everything to your full satisfaction?" The sneer in Snape's voice was unmistakable, but Granger decided to ignore it. Obviously, the potion professor wasn't a morning person.

"Yes, thank you very much, Professor," she said with a small smile and slight bow.

Snape rolled his eyes at her antics. "I expect you not to start a mess, and everything to get cleaned up afterwards."

"It will be as if we were never there," Granger promised.

"If only," Snape mumbled.

Granger suppressed a giggle, and was there a hint of a smile at the corner of Snape's mouth? Parvati's eyes widened. She had become more self-confident since spending so much time with Michael and Harry, but Snape still intimidated her. _Ginny,_ on the other hand, stayed mostly silent not to draw any unwanted attention to her. Only Luna appeared happy and relaxed around the man.

" _Will it work?"_ Leave it to the real Ginny to choose this moment for piping up in his mind.

" _I have no doubt it will,"_ Tom growled back in his mind, keeping his face bland. _"Especially if you shut up now and allow me to continue my work without interruption,"_ Ginny grumbled a bit but obeyed. She really wanted this to succeed. She wanted the world to know about Neville Longbottom's true fate. Ginny liked the boy she still saw as a brother. And she liked Madam Longbottom as well. In her opinion, they deserved to be happily reunited after all those years. And Dumbledore deserved to burn in hell for his betrayal. _"For once we're of one mind, at least about the burn in hell part."_

"Something funny, Miss Weasley?" Snape's voice interrupted his thoughts.

Emotions had apparently found their way on his face… such a careless error, Tom scolded himself. "Nothing, Sir, only eager to start with the next phase."

Snape narrowed his eyes for a moment, eying her warily. After a few troubling seconds, he nodded sharply and turned around. "I'll leave you to It then." At the door, he hesitated for a single step. "Good luck!"

.

Tom inspected the components for the last time. Michael had argued to ask for Madam Longbottom's help in gathering them, but Tom wanted none of that. He intended to go for the full shocking effect when Michael/Neville met her this evening with his new look. Tom argued about the fairness of getting Madam Longbottom involved in this plan, with her being a Professor at Hogwarts and their intention being to force the Headmaster to admit his errors. Michael had complied in the end, and so it had been Luna and Harry who gathered the components and Hermione who prepared them meticulously until even Tom couldn't find a single reason to complain.

Yes, these new-found "friends" had their benefits. Tom really wished he could somehow keep them after the coming events. It was so hard to get competent lackeys these days. They certainly would turn out more helpful than the trio of Death Eaters he had on hand. Regretfully, it wouldn't be possible. Potter had to die as the sacrificial lamb for his ritual to have the best possible effect. And sooner or later he would have to kill the girls as well. Today they were teenagers, but Tom had no doubt that both Lovegood and Granger would evolve into formidable opponents in less than a decade. They would always stand with the light, although not necessarily at Dumbledore's side. And in their own way, they would be as dangerous to him as Mad-Eye Moody or Amelia Bones, perhaps even more so. For a second, Tom shuddered at the thought of how the news of Potter's death would change the Lovegood-girl. She was impressive already with her brilliant mind, intuition and inventiveness. Darkening her heart with Potter's death would make her terrifying indeed.

Tom gulped and concentrated on the task ahead. Neither the Headmaster nor Madam Longbottom knew what was awaiting them. Snape certainly had a hunch. But even he couldn't guess the exact potion they intended to brew with all the changes and deviations they calculated. Tom narrowed his eyes, thought about the picture in his pocket. He borrowed it from a class-book found in the library. "Gryffindor Class of 1978," the reading said. One of the students visible on the picture was Frank Longbottom. Tom hoped that the real Neville would intuitively remind everybody of his father. He wanted to know the result as soon as the potion started to show effect. He had other pictures as well of other relatives of the boy like his grandfather Argyle and his Uncle Algie, but for the best effect, he hoped that it would be a similarity to Frank that became visible after imbibing the potion.

"Here is the hair." Parvati offered a vial with a lock of Michael's hair, cut by her only the day before. Tom accepted it and added the second one _Ginny_ had gotten from her father. Arthur sent it without asking her any questions or telling his wife about it. The lock of hairs had been in her parents' possession since "Harry" became a member of the Weasley family and his name was added to the family clock. While not perfect, the decade-old lock was the closest thing they were able to acquire, the closest connection to his birth date. Hopefully, it would be enough.

"We still have around thirty minutes," Granger announced, glancing through the small window.

The base of the potion had been settling for two weeks. One ingredient after the other, they followed their formula, coming closer to this moment with every step. But the last ingredients had to be added at the exact right moment. For this, they needed the alteration Snape had enforced onto the lab. It wasn't a real window, as the lab was below the ground, but it was close enough. They needed to know when sunrise arose with precision, with their own eyes. Three seconds after the first direct ray of sunlight crossed the window, they had to add the older lock of hair, the newer one following exactly eleven heartbeats later for the best possible result. _Ginny_ would be doing that part, Tom not trusting anybody else to do it properly.

Three witches were needed to put their magic into the potion, each of them pouring their heartfelt wish into the process – their wish for Michael Bain to know the truth about his heritage and to get back his true self, even if temporarily. Patil, Granger and Lovegood would take care of that part, allowing _Ginny_ to concentrate on manual work – not to forget the tiny aspect that even Tom wasn't certain if Ginny's core or Tom's spirit would be the decisive factor in confirming wither _she_ still counted as a witch at this point in time.

"Fifteen minutes left!"

"Everybody to their station," Tom ordered. "We start right now."

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Deserted Class Room near the Great Hall – Dinner Time**_

.

 _ **Michael**_

"This is it," _Ginny_ put the vial down on the table, gently lowering it on the battered wood. It was charmed to be durable and wouldn't even get a nick if she chose to smash it against the wall, but nobody wondered about her being careful with it, not after all those preparations. After putting in the hair locks and pouring the witches' magic into the potion, they barely had time to clean up the lab before Professor Snape returned to shoo them out. According to their research, the potion had to coalesce for at least another nine hours, and then had to be used within the next twenty-four hours before starting to lose in potency. So, they had entrusted the potion to _Ginny's_ care and anxiously longed for the evening to come.

Michael stared at the vial. It looked so harmless. But it wasn't. Instead, it had the potential to completely shamble his life, something that happened far too often already within the past six months. Now, with everything ready, he was afraid of using it. What if he didn't like the result? What if he turned out to be the son of someone horrible? Say, the secret son of Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, abducted by Dumbledore following some strange sense of justice. He shuddered at the thought.

"You don't have to drink it," Parvati whispered, putting a hand on his shoulder to soothe his nerves. "You can put it aside until tomorrow."

 _Ginny_ narrowed her eyes. Tom didn't like that idea one bit. He wanted the Bain-boy to use it, now! He wished to see Dumbledore squirm when Neville, long-lost son of the Longbottoms, made a spectacular reappearance. To his relief, Michael shook his head. He turned towards his girlfriend and smiled weakly. "No, I don't think I could sleep with this waiting for me. I would only lay awake; feeling like it was eying me the whole time, daring me to drink it." His friends nodded, whole-heartedly understanding the reasoning. They assumed they would feel the same in his stead.

Very gently, he grabbed the vial and lifted it to his eyes. It had a dark-red colour and it looked like small flakes were hovering in it. Michael felt a little bit like a Vampire at the thought of drinking this, despite blood not having been an ingredient. "Do you think Hedwig will still like me?" He had completed the ritual the night before, and while their bond still needed time to grow, he already felt her at the back of his head. Michael hated to think that this could change, that the potion would distance him from hid feathery friend.

"You'll still be the same boy, my sweet idiot. You'll still be you, irrespective of your name being Harry, Michael or son-of-a-bitch," Michael grinned to Parvati's words. She knew of his fears. "Black hair, red or blonde like Malfoy's, I will still be your girlfriend. Harry will still be your mate, and Hermione, your friend." She frowned for a second and added light-heartedly. "Alright, perhaps not if you change too much into Malfoy Two." Michael cackled, and his friends snickered to the comment. "And it will be the same with Hedwig. She's like an aunt to you." Parvati glanced towards Luna, not forgetting her statement about Michael still having a mother. Hopefully, he would now have a chance at getting to know her. The girl narrowed her eyes and nodded curtly. "I think she would actually nick your ear for even thinking she'd desert you."

"She would, wouldn't she?" Michael smiled wearily. "You're right."

Parvati lifted a single curved eyebrow. _Was there ever any doubt?_ A moment later, she felt pulled into Michael's embrace and strongly kissed. She still had a stupid smile on her face when Michael stepped back, uncorked the vial and drank the content in one go. His friends blinked and watched him closely. For a while, nothing happened. Then Michael paled, doubled over as if in pain.

"Everything alright, Michael?" Parvati asked, concerned. Obviously, he wasn't fine. Michael waved weakly, heaved like he wanted to throw up. Parvati rubbed his back, glancing to her friends asking for help.

"The potion and the blood adoption are battling each other," _Ginny_ explained, nobody wondering about her insight. _"Will he be alright?"_ The real Ginny was concerned. _"Shut up,"_ Tom commanded icily. He didn't want to miss a single moment of this. Tom noticed Luna's frown. Perhaps he had mumbled those words instead of saying them silently, crap! Michael went on his knees, bending forward, heaving and shuddering. To his friends' shock, he started to waver a bit, his skin moving like something wanted to break through.

"Look at his hair!" Hermione noticed it first.

 _Ginny_ narrowed her eyes, struggling to suppress a smirk. Like Tom had hoped, the hair brightened and turned into a dark blond. His skin paled slightly, not like Malfoy but it wasn't tanned anymore. And the eyes – Tom exactly knew whom those big blue eyes belonged to. He had seen exactly the same for years around the greenhouses. After a while, the changes stopped, and the new appearance seemed to have settled in. His friends eyed him in wonder. They had no idea how long the potion would work: one week like the standard potion? Would it be permanent as his real appearance broke through, or something in between? Perhaps it would return to his former self far sooner as the blood adoption overcame the family potion? It all depended on how perfectly they had been able to brew the potion and how much energy the culprit – Dumbledore they had no doubt – invested in the original charm. So, they intended to make good use of it and fast.

"Okay," _Ginny_ broke the stunned silence. "Time for the show. The Great Hall is waiting for us."

.

 _ **Luna**_

None of her friends had noticed her slipping away. For once, even Harry had been too preoccupied with Michael to note Luna turning away and following a different path. Like Tom, she had instantly recognised those eyes. Her heart was soaring. Soon, her friend would meet his mother. The moment he changed back to his real self, the Nargles had stopped confusing her senses, allowing her to detect and fully recognise the link he shared with his mother. _She_ was close, so close.

And _She_ would need someone to lean on. There was no keeping Michael back, not now. But Luna had to make sure that his mother had someone she trusted at her side to lean on – or use her wand to hex the Headmaster. Luna stopped in front of the potion master's chamber. Professor Snape would be there. He always arrived late at dinner, like he had barely time for such nonsense. She knocked and waited anxiously for a response.

"Go away!" Luna rolled her eyes. Not really unexpected. She knocked again, louder and more urgently this time, kicking the door for good measure with her small foot.

Steps got closer, fast and angry. Someone ripped the door open and a furious Snape glared at her. His left eye twitched. "Miss Lovegood, what a… welcome… surprise."

"I need you to make a floo call, Professor," Luna demanded, completely disregarding that Snape was struggling not to lash out.

"And who, pray tell, shall I call at your request?"

Luna showed him her most dazzling smile: "Why, Augusta Longbottom, who else?"

.

 _ **Minerva**_

Everybody noticed the change instantly and looked up as the small group entered the hall with Harry at the front and Parvati, Hermione and Ginny flanking Michael in the middle, protecting him from prying eyes. To Tom's disappointment, the one person he wanted to see at the staff's table wasn't there, but at least Dumbledore was present and the bulk of the teachers as well. Dumbledore eyed their approach warily, apparently guessing that he wouldn't like what was about to happen one bit. He even seemed to consider hurrying away or ordering them to their tables, but it was too late for any of this.

"What is the meaning of this, Mister… Howell?" Professor Dumbledore asked, struggling anew with the unwelcome name. Instead of giving an answer, Harry and the girls stepped aside in reaching distance, allowing the teachers to have a good look. Dumbledore stumbled up from his seat followed by McGonagall. The Headmaster paled deathly-white as he realised what the teenagers had done. While most teachers only looked confused, not really guessing what this was about, McGonagall's reaction was most impressive: her eyes widening with understanding, then her face turned into a grimace of rage. She pulled back her right hand, clenched a fist and smashed it full-force into Dumbledore's face, making him stagger as everybody else gasped.

"Albus, how could you?" She hissed like an angry cat, tears shooting into her eyes.

Minerva recognised those eyes in an instant. Years ago, she had been a close friend of the Longbottoms, often visiting Augusta and the young couple. She had watched Frank and Alice grow up, had been at their wedding and their son's baptism. Her heart had broken at the tragedies that struck the family. And now this. "You had no right." For a second, she looked like she wanted to attack the Headmaster again, but instead, she rushed around the table and to Michael's side – Neville Longbottom. The other teachers exchanged confused glances as Minerva pulled the boy into an embrace, crying, shuddering and mumbling "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry."

Michael patiently indulged her activities, confused. Hermione and Parvati watched the show, quite content with her reaction, redeeming the head of house in their esteem. Teachers and students whispered, trying to guess what just happened. Minerva took a step back, lifted the boy's face with her trembling hands. "You're alive. You're really alive." She shuddered again, unable to speak for a moment. "Your mother will be so happy to see you. Hearing about your alleged death…" She struggled, had to use all her will-power not to strangle Albus as her mind went to the man responsible for this, her rage making her blood boil. She shuddered. "She took it very hard."

 _She knows my mother_ , Michael's mind raced. _My mother is alive. I will really see her_.

As if on command, the door to the Great Hall opened, and two of the missing teachers entered: Madam Sprout and Madam Longbottom were deep in talk, unaware of the whole commotion that awaited them. If possible, Albus paled even more. His eyes widened, and he gulped. With all eyes on Professor McGonagall and the boy, he started to slip away, only to find himself face to face with Matron Mathilda. The elderly house elf had arrived silently and now hovered in the air, glaring him down. "We'll have to speak later about you forcing a house-elf nanny to betray the child she cared for, but for now you'll stay right here. Take responsibility for your deed." He wanted to object but was interrupted by McGonagall's voice.

"Alice?" She caught the teacher's attention. "You have a guest. One you really want to meet." She gently pulled the boy around to have him face his mother. Alice was confused for a moment before realisation hit her. She stumbled, and Madam Sprout had to steady her. Alice blinked, anxiously looked at Minerva, asking for confirmation. "You're not dreaming, Alice. He's right here."

Alice Longbottom stepped nearer, step by step, Madam Sprout at her side the whole time. Fearful it was only a dream she would eventually wake up from, alone, she put her fingers on the boy's cheek.

"Neville!" Her voice was a whisper only, but everyone in the Great Hall heard it as clear as a bell.

Then pandemonium erupted.

.

 _ **Ministry of Magic – Wizengamot Chamber – 23**_ _ **rd**_ _ **of March**_

.

Augusta and Alice were flanking the young couple as the quartet headed for the Wizengamot chamber. Alice was still in a dreamlike state, could hardly believe that she got her son back, alive. She hated Albus Dumbledore right now, she really did, but her love and relief to have Neville back were overshadowing everything else. The same couldn't be said about Augusta. She was on the warpath, more than eager to smash faces and call names. She wouldn't rest until the man paid for what he had done to her family. She glanced aside, exchanging a look with the girl at her grandson's side. Parvati didn't blink but gave a curt nod. This Indian beauty loved her grandson, more and more as days passed by. Augusta assumed the feeling had only intensified with Neville's reaction as they left Hogwarts.

.

 _ **Three days ago**_

When Augusta arrived, she found Alice in a terrible state. The Lovegood girl hadn't explained anything, only telling her she had to rush to Hogwarts right away. "Your family needs you now," had been her only explanation. _Your family_ – a family that only consisted of Alice so far.

Professor Snape's presence had told her that this wasn't some sick joke. She didn't like the man, had heard too many things about him from her son and daughter-in-law. According to Alice he hadn't really changed since the war and was still an arse. But he certainly was no prankster. He was a war-hardened veteran and treated Augusta Longbottom as one. So, she followed the odd duo. How right the girl had been. Alice had been completely distraught, clutching at a foreign boy under the tear-filled eyes of Minerva. Augusta had needed all her self-discipline to keep calm as she glanced at the boy's face. There was something from Frank there, especially around the nose and the hair, but this round face and those big, blue eyes were so Alice-like, there was no doubt about his identity.

The next minutes were a little hazy in her memory. Albus, his cheek already turning blue from Minerva's fist; the presence of "Michael's" friends and his Gryffindor robe telling her who the boy was, where he had been hiding all those years, in plain sight; Minerva's words, spoken in harsh Scottish brogue: "Your grandson is back, Auggie." And he was, he really was. Not only would she have her grandson back and Alice her son, but the House of Longbottom had an heir, and a future, once again. A red haze of hate had veiled her vision. Augusta had no idea how she had been able to control her wand hand and not simply killed the fool on the spot.

They had departed together for a few days, for Alice to spend time with her son and Augusta to plan a battle. Minerva had arranged everything, Albus not daring to interfere. Just as they turned to leave, Neville had called for a halt, his hand reaching out for his girl. "Parvati, I need my Parvati." She wanted to tell him that this was about family, about mother and son reconnecting. But a single glance into the girl's face, seeing how much the boy's reaction meant to her, and she hadn't had the heart to separate the teenagers. She barely noticed the silver-white shadow following them on silent wings.

.

 _ **Today**_

"Madam Longbottom," an unwelcome meeting if there ever was one. Augusta narrowed her eyes, as she noticed the Weasley girl at the side of Sirius Black. She knew that Black had been actively building his power block for months, but according to her knowledge, the Weasleys weren't among his supporters. Black had approached her as well a few times this winter, but something had kept her back, despite their shared mistrust towards Albus Dumbledore and his Order. That same something that kept her from joining Albus' order in the last war had also told her not to join forces with this man. Irrespective of his political aims, he didn't have the welfare of House Longbottom at heart. And married into the family or born into it, she was a Longbottom. It was her duty to protect it, since she exchanged oaths with her beloved Argyle forty-two years ago.

"Ginny," Neville greeted the girl. "Grandma, Ginny was the one who came up with the potion," he explained.

Naturally, Augusta knew about the potion, and how it had been able to lift the illusion of Neville being the son of James Potter. The healers had still not been able to tell whether the change would be permanent. Neither mother nor grandmother wanted Neville to depend on that potion his whole life. In the end, they would love him just the same if he changed back into his former self. Merlin, Alice had loved the boy before any of this, and annoyed Augusta more than once with all her gushing.

"Thank you for this," Augusta nodded towards the girl. "It won't be forgotten. The House of Longbottom is in your debt."

"Lord Black helped me," Ginny Weasley accepted her thanks gracefully. "He found the recipe of the original potion."

Augusta narrowed her eyes, watching the man closely. He was far too eager to get into her good graces. She had no doubt that this wasn't about helping the Longbottoms but simply a way to demote Dumbledore. Augusta was willing to work together, this once. But she certainly didn't trust the man. A glance at the faces of the young couple told her they agreed. The pure hate in the Indian girl's eyes was a welcome surprise. "I appreciate the assistance, Lord Black. I expect us to connect our forces today."

Sirius Black bowed slightly. "It's time to end an era." _The era of Albus Dumbledore_ , as everybody understood without words. "And perhaps it can be the start of a new one," he offered his most charming smile. "An Alliance between our houses…"

"Is not possible," growled Neville. He blushed as he noticed his faux pas and mumbled a sorry towards his grandmother. This didn't stop Parvati from commenting: "You should be careful around him, Ginny. Black can't be trusted." She didn't flinch back at the hate in the man's eyes, but only strengthened her grip on Neville's hand for support.

"Lord Black," Augusta stepped in. "For today, we will be… co-fighters. We have different reasons to be here but the same aim: make Albus Dumbledore pay for his past deeds. But when we leave the chamber, it will be as it always was. As my grandson - Scion of House Longbottom – already stated: There won't be an alliance between our houses." Before walking away, she turned to the girl still at Black's side. "As to you Miss Weasley, I share the opinion of my future granddaughter-in-law: be careful, Lord Black can't be trusted." Parvati's eyes widened, and both teenagers blushed deeply at the title given to the girl by the stern Matriarch. This was a severe sign of approval on the witch's side, only a step behind an official betrothal offer to her family. They would have to speak about this later. Parvati glanced to the side, Neville's smile relieving her. He obviously wasn't unhappy about the development.

The day turned out even better than expected.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Headmaster's office – some hours later.**_

.

The day turned out even worse than expected.

Albus gulped down another shot of Firewhiskey, the alcohol burning his stomach but doing nothing to better his mood. Slowly, he was getting drunk, for the first time since the victory party of 1981. He had reasons to. Tomorrow, the world would still be blight, but for the next few hours he was allowed to forget reason and self-control.

The Wizengamot meeting had started as expected. Minister Fudge had enjoyed a bit too much taking away Albus' position as Great Britain's emissary to the ICW. A vicious speech of an enraged Augusta Longbottom later, and his political career ended with a landslide victory of his enemies. Nearly every pureblood sitting in the Wizengamot – irrespective of their political faction or opinions – had sided with the Matriarch in her demand to demote him. The reasons they had accepted in November about him having no other choice than to turn a child into a Harry Potter clone counted for nothing this time. Bloodlines were taken very seriously, and his little scheme had nearly ended one of the oldest and most respected pureblood families. With Frank Longbottom still in St. Mungo's and her grandson missing, Augusta would have been hard-pressed to find a solution for the survival of her house. Abducting a Muggleborn was acceptable in the eyes of the Wizengamot, however doing the same with one of their own represented one of the most heinous deeds imaginable. It was the old and well-known hypocrisy that ruled the land, and in this case, it worked against him.

To make matters worse, there had actually been a mention of putting him on trial. Only his reputation as the defeater of Grindelwald and the small number of staunch friends that still supported him stalled it. However, the matter wasn't off the table. Helplessly he had been forced to watch the vote about his successor as Chief Warlock. He had no say in the matter anymore, and as he soon found out his allies didn't have any either. Rumour was, Black had somehow been responsible for bringing Neville Longbottom back into the folds of his family. He had the Minister on his side and a massive block of grey families, with many of the lighter and darker ones seeing an acceptable third choice in the man. So, it had been no surprise when Lord Sirius Black became the new Chief Warlock. Politically, he certainly was the mightiest man in the country now, even surpassing the Minister. Albus sighed. For a long time, he had hoped to consolidate an alliance with the man, envisioned a time where grey and light families could put the dark block around Malfoy into their place. Oh, how he had erred. The whole time, Black had been his political enemy, scheming against Albus and planning his downfall.

 _Well played, Sirius_ , Albus lifted his tumbler. Using the youngest Weasley had been an unexpected move. He still had no idea how that unusual cooperation started. Thinking back, he remembered Sirius being there when Neville – back then still being seen as Harry Potter – celebrated his fourteenth birthday at the Burrow. Ginny had been quite interested in the man, even accompanied him as he left the grounds. Had Black used that moment to socialize with the girl? It was no secret that Ron and Ginny Weasley were unhappy with their family's wealth or their lack of. They had been envious of other teenagers from wealthier families. It had been easy for Albus to get them on his side with a bit of pocket money. Had Black used the same approach? Bribing her to place someone near Neville? Since the events of Halloween, she had worked hard to get close to the boy again. Had Black ordered her to do so?

Albus had no idea that Neville's friends were having exactly the same thoughts tonight. Tom had hoped to use the moment to get Sirius Black closer to Neville and Harry Potter again, but the plan had backfired immensely, and Ginny Weasley lost most of the teenagers' goodwill by siding with Black. Perhaps, knowing this would have been a small relief to Albus, but regretfully he did not. He only knew that he had lost two of his positions today with barely a chance of getting them back. Decades of hard work destroyed in one single day of mayhem. And it was only a question of time until the hounds started to bark again. Lucius had said his farewell with a smirk and glee in his eyes. _All too soon, he'll gather the governors_ , Albus mused. He looked around in his office. There was the window he had often used to watch the lake while deep in thoughts. There were the shelves with his books, the reading chair charmed to always have the exact right amount of light. The paintings of former headmasters, some of them annoying like Dippet, others useful for a bit of banter and sometimes even help like Phineas Black. Sadly, he glanced towards the empty perch. Fawkes had disappeared three days ago and hadn't listened to Albus' calls since.

 _How long will this be my office anymore?_

.

 _ **Gryffindor girls' dorm – same time**_

.

The day could have gone better, but all in all, Tom was pleased with the result. Dumbledore had lost two of his positions, and you had to be blind not to see that Lucius Malfoy would rid him of the third one as well soon enough. It would be one of Malfoy's last successes before his imminent accidental death. Today, his old foe had lost his political bite. Being demoted of his job as the Headmaster of Hogwarts would shatter his heart; Tom had no doubt about it. Despite all his faults, Dumbledore had loved the school.

With Ginny Weasley soon losing her worth in his game, not to speak of her life and soul, he had attempted to transfer a bit of the brownie points she gathered since Christmas onto Sirius Black's shoulders. In the end, the decision had been the wrong one, as he now knew. If possible, the whole affair had worsened Black's reputation among Potter and his bunch of friends. Now, they didn't even trust Ginny anymore, but assumed she only helped Longbottom because Black ordered her doing so. Yes, Longbottom had thanked her for her help, but the words had been very politely spoken and far too reserved to mean the start of a renewed friendship and sibling bond.

Luckily, it wasn't a hard loss. If everything went as planned, Potter would die in three months' time, and Longbottom would be unimportant again, siding with his grey block or choosing a far darker fate for himself and his family. Actually, Tom had changed his mind about the boy, taking him off his "has to die" list. He felt no hate towards the boy, only a hint of pity. Tom was even willing to let him live in peace – if he didn't side with the girls. Those would have to die, but the matter wasn't urgent. Too many deaths in short order could change the public's opinion, raise suspicions and make it more difficult to implant the changes he had in mind.

Tom closed Ginny's eyes and recalled the image of McGonagall sucker punching Dumbledore. He had always known the elderly witch had quite the temper. The sight had been sublime. There should have been more of it. There could have been actually, with Augusta Longbottom making her sudden appearance, but the matriarch had been able to restrain herself. What a pity! Tom frowned. Lovegood immediately making the right conclusions and even getting Snape to floo Longbottom Manor had been… no, not a surprise. More it was a confirmation about how dangerous the girl could prove in the future. He would kill her now and be done with it – a sad accident without anybody guessing the truth – but regretfully he still needed her. Lovegood being his unwilling guest would be a compelling reason for Potter to comply with Tom's wishes instead of instantly turning on his heels and vanish into the pink dreamland of hopes and good wishes. He hadn't decided yet what to do with her afterwards. Killing her, blaming her for Potter's death, or using an Imperio to turn her into an asset – the possibilities were endless.

Tom sighed deeply, and a broad smile split his face.

Yes, the day had been excellent, and the future was even more promising. A few more weeks and he would leave behind all of this: the school, the Weasley family and this body. All of this thanks to Black and Potter. He raised his hand like lifting a glass in mock salute.

 _Thank you, both of you._

 _ **A/N**_

 _ **Merry Christmas and a happy New Year!**_


	23. Chapter 23 Easter Break

_**A/N**_

 _This will be a calm chapter without much action; a bit of family time mostly._

 **.**

 **Easter Break**

 **.**

" _Hogwarts is one of the safest places in Great Britain._

" _How often did we hear this hogwash? How often has the great Albus Dumbledore used them to placate our fears? Rightful fears, I have to add. Trolls attacking students and nearly killing them; a Basilisk petrifying students for months before the Aurors were able to eliminate the danger; Acromantulas threatening everyone who dares to enter the near forest; who knows how many other dangers are still uncovered at that presumed safe place, waiting for some innocent student? Safe? This isn't what I would call safe, not by far. The events of the past months proved it well enough, events that not only endangered our children but also besmirched the reputation of this Grand Nation._

" _The headmaster proved again and again how unreliable he is. Is it a sign of age? Perhaps it's a long-term repercussion of his fight against Grindelwald or of the sheer amount of magic he handled in the past. I do not know, and actually I do not care. What I care about is the safety of our children, children that he far too often didn't protect like he should have done; children he even willingly endangered more than once, justifying his vile deeds with some Greater Good._

" _Greater Good? Whose Greater Good is he speaking about? And who is the villain in this melodrama? He acts like there is still some real Dark Lord out there to get all of us, waiting for our guard to slip. But there isn't. Dumbledore himself beat Grindelwald fifty years ago; my godson did the same with You-know-who four decades later, defeating that madman and losing his father_ _–_ _my dear friend and brother James Potter_ _–_ _in the battle. Then who is it Dumbledore is still trying to defeat with those half-brained plans? I'll tell you the name of Dumbledore's greatest fear, his personal Boggart: it's You-know-who. Yes, the same man that got defeated thirteen years ago. The same man Dumbledore somehow expects to have survived somewhere._

" _The last war was bloody and it lasted long enough. However, it ended with You-know-who's defeat. We are at peace. We should allow our wounds to heal, bridges to be mended_ _–_ _bridges that separated our families for far too long. Andromeda and Narcissa of the House of Black, prime examples of that strife, sisters that were separated for years now at last able to speak to each other again. Many other families endured similar fates: brother fighting brother, father losing his son and wives mourning their husbands. Haven't we looked back for far too long? Isn't it time to square our shoulders and to march onward, straight and our heads held high? There is no time anymore for someone like Headmaster Dumbledore, clinging to the past and filling the heads of our children with nonsense._

" _Headmaster Dumbledore has served our community for a long time_ _–_ _a time that has to come to an end now before it gets worse. Nobody died so far but how long will his luck last? I'm not willing to wait any longer. I don't want to have to stay at the grave of my godson, only because I was unable to protect him from Dumbledore's panic attacks. I want to act and I want to act now. Who is with me in this?"_

 _Sirius Black, speaking to the Wizengamot, 1_ _st_ _of April 1995_

.

 _ **Hogsmeade train station**_ _ **–**_ _ **8**_ _ **th**_ _ **of April 1995**_

.

On days like these, it was nice to have someone around like Paul Masterson. Alright, Harry mused, it was nice to have him around all year long, but today was still a bit special. It was Saturday, the day of departure for the Easter break, and the weather was like expected from a Scottish April day: windy, chilly and damp.

It's a wonder they never heard of something like _waiting hall_ or _weather shelter_ in the magical world, he silently shook his head.

School and train had been around long enough for someone to think of such things. Yes, there were spells to clean and dry your clothes, but not everybody was able to cast them and there weren't all that many senior students willing to accommodate some measly Firsties. Harry shuddered at the thought of having to spend hours on the train with dirty and soaked clothes. Today, there would be none of that thanks to Paul's weather magic. Harry glanced at the younger students around him. Perhaps some of them will remember this day next year, missing the bear shaman.

"And remember, Harry," Neville interrupted his thoughts. "Take a break from your training now and then."

"Will do, mate,' Harry hugged him – a very manly hug naturally. Luna followed up with a hug of her own and a kiss on Neville's cheek. He actually had to lean forward because he was nearly a head taller than her now. More than two weeks had passed since he drank that potion, and there was still no sign of him turning back to his 'pretend-Harry' appearance. Luckily, Parvati was well accomplished with tailoring spells and had been able to adjust his wardrobe.

"I'm sure Luna will take care of that," Hermione added. Like Parvati and Neville, she would leave Hogwarts as well, for a few days at least. Unlike them, however, she wouldn't return to her family but use the time for a bit of unusual experience and future talk. Harry's friend Martin Legrange had arranged something with one of the smaller druidic Circles in Ireland for Greg and her. The boy would continue his training in animal healing, she would use the chance to learn a bit about a completely different way to use, see and live magic. And the teenagers intended to speak about the future. Greg had to make a decision and Hermione as well. She had no doubts about her own anymore, but accepted that it would be more difficult and far-reaching for Greg.

"I'll try to mix in some snogging and groping hours between the training sessions," Luna smiled innocently and linked arms with her boyfriend. Hermione rolled her eyes and Neville mumbled something about "too much information, too many pictures".

"And you'll really be okay?" Hermione had to ask. She didn't feel completely relaxed about leaving her friends behind. Harry and Luna would be the only ones staying at Hogwarts for the whole time. Even Jenny and Paul intended to leave for Canada in a few days and only return a week later. They would only meet again at the end of the break when it was time for their visit of Percy and Penny.

"We'll be alright. A bit training, a bit reading," Harry assured her. "We'll avoid Dumbledore as much as possible." The headmaster was still at Hogwarts, despite the daily rumours of Malfoy and Black working at his removal. "And Professor Flitwick promised to help me with the wand training."

The tiny professor had turned into a very good friend and mentor, eager to make the best out of the amount of time Harry would still be at Hogwarts. Contrary to some other professors – and the headmaster – he had no doubt that Harry would leave again at the end of the school year; and with him a duo of the most promising students Ravenclaw ever had the luck to host. Harry knew from one of his conversations with the part-Goblin, that Flitwick felt a little evil and guilty because he was actually quite happy about the troll incident three years ago and how shabby McGonagall and Dumbledore handled the matter back then. Without it, Hermione would never have been resorted into his house. And without that resorting, she never would have had the chance of meeting and befriending Luna Lovegood. Only Merlin knew how a friendless time in her house, with those bullies around Cho Chang would have changed the quirky blonde to the worse. Instead, bonding with Hermione made her blossom and grow into her full potential. The girls' friendship certainly brightened Ravenclaw, and because of that he was thankful for everything that led to these circumstances.

"And Professor Snape promised to speak with Harry about herbs and how to use them more efficiently," Luna quipped.

"Snape?" Neville asked, his eyes widening. Even Hermione was surprised enough to not correct Neville for omitting Snape's title.

Harry shrugged. "He's not so bad. He even called Neville grandma that day." Neville nodded slowly. "And he really knows his potions. It would be careless not to use the chance to pick his brain as long as I have the opportunity."

"And he agreed?" Neville wondered. While Snape had got more polite since Halloween, he was far from getting soft or accommodating.

"It's because of Harry's mum," Luna said softly.

"Harry's mum?" Neville asked hoarsely. It was still difficult for him to talk about Harry's parents. It hadn't been that long when he assumed them to be his own birth parents.

"He has been friends with my mum, before their school days and for the first few years at Hogwarts as well," Harry spoke gently. Remus had told him about those years, and how the friendship dissolved after one too many disputes between the teenagers. Harry knew about Snape loving his mum as well, but that was a private matter and not his to speak about. "'Apparently, she was really good at potions. And I inherited a bit of that."

"Unlike me," Neville sighed.

Harry shrugged. "You're getting better at it." And he meant it. With Neville's growing self-confidence, Snape's imposing presence wasn't the demolition factory anymore it had been in the past, always hovering above the poor boy, always causing all kinds of mishaps.

"He is, isn't he?" Parvati smiled broadly. She wasn't too bad at potions herself and had started tutoring her boyfriend – with kisses being the motivational factor.

Neville understood now. "So, he always saw your father in me because of my appearance, but he's able to see your mother in you because of your potion skills."

"And my eyes," Harry agreed, feeling sorry for Neville. The boy hadn't deserved to be treated bad only because Dumbledore changed his appearance. "Apparently, I have her eyes." He absolutely hated that statement, had to hear it far too often already.

Neville sighed deeply. "I only hope this will stay with me from now on." He gestured towards his new appearance.

"And if not, then we'll find a way to help you," Harry promised. "And now bugger off!" He grinned. "Else the train departs without you and I can't enjoy my Luna-time."

"Bye Harry! Bye Luna!"

.

 _ **Red-headed Easter days**_

.

With growing concern, Arthur watched his wife of nearly three decades slowly degrading into a shaking mess. The news about Albus and what he had done to Neville had startled her without end, and she was still struggling to accept the truth. For nearly her whole life, Albus had always been her saint, somehow greater-than-life and without any mortal faults. Not even Molly's own father and certainly not Arthur could ever compare to this picture of otherworldly holiness. And now, all of this had been shattered within a few days. Every error of the past she had been able to discuss away. Every deed he had been blamed for, every bad word uttered about him in the newspaper or among friends and even family: never had she doubted him. Merlin, she even accepted his explanation for his decision to pretend the Bain-boy being Harry Potter, something that had solidly estranged Arthur from his former mentor.

This had changed when the truth was revealed about the fate of Neville Longbottom. Arthur clenched his mug, the tea long cooled down, smiling as he thought about the boy who was still a son in his heart. At last, the boy knew his real name. At last, he was reunited with his mother – a mother that had been grieving for him for years. It had been this fact that had been the last straw for Molly. Accepting that Albus took an orphan and gave him to a loving family, even under the deceptions he assumed to be necessary, had been hard enough for her but still possible. But hurting a mother like this, telling her that her only son had died – this had floored her. Despite all her faults, and Arthur knew every one of hers, she was a loving mother first and last. This vile deed was utterly despicable in her eyes, and while she was still willing to follow Albus' lead in the fight against darkness, the complete trust was gone for good. He sighed. She still hadn't written Neville, but while it had formerly been a feel of betrayal that stopped her, it was confusion now and not knowing how to start her apology.

Arthur looked up as Ginny entered the room to prepare herself a sandwich. She looked like she intended to leave the house – again. She was away now very often, and kept to her own device even when she stayed at the Burrow. His daughter was troubling him, but so far, he hadn't been able to reach out to her. Often, she was so foreign to him, like he didn't know her anymore.

"You … you aren't going to him, are you?" He asked her, his voice sounding a little meek to him.

Ginny rolled her eyes. Tom hadn't to ask whom the man meant who still assumed he was speaking to his daughter – his teenaged daughter. "No, I'm not." He felt Arthur's eyes, watching _her_. After a while, Tom added: "No, I don't trust him. No, I'm careful." _Ginny_ sighed deeply. "But we needed his help. Without him, we wouldn't have been able to free Neville of this illusion. It was worth it, don't you think so?"

Naturally, he wasn't really interested in the opinion of the Weasley patriarch, but the rest of his time in this body would be easier if he hadn't the man breathing down his neck the whole time. He had thought about ways to sway Arthur Weasley to his side. Perhaps next summer, a bonding was possible between Black and Weasley over the loss of Ginny and Harry. While neither overly bright nor talented, Arthur had a reputation that could be useful to exploit in the future. But in the end, Tom decided it wasn't worth the trouble. It would make it even more difficult to reconcile his many allies and possibly alienate some of the darker ones. Like with Longbottom, Tom would ignore him for the near future. In the end, Weasley had been an acceptable father to _Ginny_ , the only one Tom had ever known. He deserved a peaceful life. This, apparently, was one thing that made him distinct from his older self: Tom wasn't evil or cruel simply for the sake of it. It was only a tool, to be used if necessary. Voldemort had been different, often losing control and lashing out even against loyal followers, a complete and utter waste in Tom's eyes. Pain lost its worth as a disciplinary tool if overused or dished out indiscriminately.

"You're right," Arthur admitted. "Only be careful."

"Pinky promise!" Tom felt a little silly. Sometimes, his teenage body and Ginny's soul bled through a tad too much for his own taste. It really was time to leave this behind. He could feel her soul cackle in glee.

Arthur watched her depart, his heart a bit lighter now. Tomorrow, his sons would arrive, each of them – Neville aside. They rarely mentioned him around Molly or Ron, not to trouble the former and not to enrage the later, as Ron was still unwilling to change his mind regarding 'the traitor'. More than once, Arthur had already thought if his son had hit his head one time too often as a baby. His complete lack of mental and emotional development was disturbing. He sighed. His other sons had agreed to celebrate Easter with their parents. Molly had been ecstatic, the preparations keeping her mind busy. Even Percy would be there if without Penny. Arthur assumed, Percy's girlfriend still hadn't forgiven Molly: neither about how she treated Neville, nor her comments on what to expect, 'from a real wife', he sighed. Times changed. Wives were different these days. They didn't stay at home all the time. Many of them wanted to have their own career. Molly had still difficulties grasping this concept.

 _It will be nice to have them around again, like in old times_. One by one they had left the house, Bill and Charlie years ago, Percy following last summer. The Twins would hopefully stay until their NEWTs next year. _And Ginny? How long will she still be my little girl?_ Arthur felt a little wistful. _This summer, we should do something together, a little holiday perhaps_ _–_ _father-daughter bonding. I would like that_ , he nodded.

Thinking about the summer, making plans about what they could do together, he had no idea about the events that were already set in motion, plans that would spoil everything and perhaps take Ginny away from him forever.

Sometimes, it is too late even for the best of ideas.

.

 _ **Longbottom Manor**_ _ **–**_ _ **15**_ _ **th**_ _ **of April**_

.

"You have to be careful with mixing the earths in due proportions for the soil of the Abyssinian Shrivelfig. The most widely used combination is composed of a sandy base, two different parts of bog earth and a pint of this salty mix," Alice pointed towards a white burlap sack, containing something that looked more like small gravel than earth. "Its share depends on the age of the Shrivelfig plant, the older the plant the more you have to use."

Neville was listening intensely. He really enjoyed this, both to learn something new about his favourite object and to spend time with his mother.

 _Mother … mother_ , he whispered slowly in his head, grinning silly. He was still in the phase of unbelief. Every morning he woke up with the fear of this only being a dream. Every morning he had to go see his mother first, to confirm she was really there. Not that Alice was any better. More than once, he woke up in the night from his mother traipsing down the floor to have a look at him. Even Augusta looked softer these days than he had ever seen her, back in the Weasley days. She was more content, more at peace. Sometimes he wondered how it would have been growing up in this house. Would she have been a caring grandmother? Would she have been strict, forcing down his throat endless lessons about pureblood customs? It was something he still had to learn now, as the topic wasn't really important in the Weasley family but something his Grandma took very seriously. He was the Scion of House Longbottom now. They had visited Gringotts together and on his fifteenth birthday he would accept the Scion ring as well, new privileges and obligations starting to be a part of his new life.

Augusta turned away from the cosy sight and glanced to her left as she felt the grip tighten around her arm. Normally, she wasn't one for physical contact, but Parvati looked like she needed it. Teary-eyed but with a sappy smile – Augusta understood where this was coming from. It would need some time to get used to this, to accept moments like these being normal like they should always have been. She patted the girl's hand and got a grateful smile in return. Parvati was a beautiful girl and would grow into an even more beautiful woman. Augusta wondered how her children would look like. Both Parvati and Neville would turn fifteen this summer, the right time to have a serious talk with the teenagers and the girl's parents about the future. But not now, not with the boy still coming to terms with his new-found family. And certainly she wouldn't try anything without the teenagers' consent. Augusta had the feeling they wouldn't appreciate that very much and she developed a healthy respect for the girl's temper.

"I really hate Dumbledore right now," the girl suddenly growled like reading Augusta's mind.

Augusta smiled thinly. She appreciated this side of the girl very much, it showed temper and a strong will, something necessary in this family as Longbottom men were infamous for being a bit too placid and composed for their own good. It wasn't the worst trait, but sometimes a bit more action and rightful wrath was necessary to get things done. Otherwise, you easily turned into the loser with others snow-balling you. Others far too often equated a peaceful character with weakness. It had been the same with Argyle and Frank, and now Neville showed the same tendency. He was slowly getting more confident, but he would always be the calm, earthy type. A fiery wife at his side would be a welcome complement.

"He already lost most of his political cloud," Augusta replied calmly.

"And his headmaster job?" Parvati hissed. "I don't want him around my Neville anymore. He shouldn't have to be around that man. And who knows if Dumbledore doesn't come up with some nutter plan in the future."

 _She is right about that_ , Augusta mused. It would be too early to dismiss Albus completely. He's too old and was a mighty man far too long to simply roll over now and play dead opossum. "We'll take care of that very soon. Malfoy is already organizing a meeting of the Governors." She was one of the board members as well as was her old friend Agatha Pinegrew. Far too long, the pair of elderly ladies hadn't been able to sway the board, with Malfoy and his money blocking them at each and every turn. For once, they would be on the same side, not that she liked the idea all that much.

Parvati wrinkled her nose, obviously not liking the man either. "Is there a chance to get him into prison?"

"Malfoy or Dumbledore?" Augusta wondered.

Parvati lifted a single finely sculpted eyebrow: "Best case? Both!"

Augusta cackled. She really liked the girl's viciousness. "We have to see; one step after the other and first things first."

"Dumbledore away from Hogwarts," Parvati started to finger count, "Neville surviving the tournament." She hesitated. "And then he has to decide where to spend the next school year."

Augusta knew how much that topic troubled the girl. Harry Howell would leave the country again after the tournament, with that Lovegood girl certainly accompanying him. Granger, the other close friend of Neville, was thinking about leaving as well, according to rumours. She put a hand on Parvati's shoulder. "We'll find a solution – together." She meant it. Parvati was part of her family now. And Augusta wasn't willing to lose Neville so soon again after just finding him. With Dumbledore gone and Minerva slowly coming around, Neville would hopefully decide to stay at Hogwarts. His mother working there was certainly a huge point in the Scottish school's favour.

"Together," Parvati repeated. She liked the thought.

.

 _ **Ireland**_ _ **–**_ _ **near Drombeg Stone Circle**_

.

"Open your eyes," Sheila nudged her gently. Slowly, Hermione followed the advice and stared at the surrounding area, her eyes wide with wonder. The little village they had been living in for the past week had already been wonderful. So full of life and the air calming, it had been a time of finding a bit of peace after those months of troubles and trials. The dozens huts, shelter for a handful of druids, their families and some other visitors, made up a pictorial sight like straight from a postal card. Without much of the modern comfort Hermione was used to from home, they were still homely, and she knew already how much she would miss this life. The village was not 'her' place, not for her to stay forever, she could feel it. But it was more than comprehensible why the inhabitants felt no urge to leave ever again. They had an air of contentment around them, one Hermione envied them about.

They had welcomed her and Greg like long-lost children, showered them with human warmth and honest if peaceful joy. She had often read about something like this, mostly in descriptions of abbeys and similar places, but now felt it herself for the first time. Cold but incredible fresh water, green meadows that invited them to run around barefoot and animals that felt no shyness around humans, the experience was so different to what they were used to. Greg had instantly felt at home as well, taking care of the animals and playing with the children. They accepted him as one of theirs from the start. He hadn't to be careful with every gesture, every word, like he was used to from home or the Slytherin dorms. Returning to his former reclusive self would be dire for him, Hermione expected, but it was only for a few more months. Canada would set him free.

The decision had been made the night before after hours of soft-spoken arguments and weighing the pros and cons, the experience of this other world only having been the last stepping stone. Greg wanted to spend his life as a healer, as a caretaker of animals and humans alike. He despised the thought of the hate that permeated the life of his father. It wasn't something he could ever accept, not now with him knowing a different path. Greg wanted to be with her as well, but it wasn't the main reason anymore, and Hermione was actually quite happy about that. She felt too young for eternal commitment, didn't want to be responsible for such an important choice. It would be too much of a burden for their still burgeoning relationship. They were friends. She was quite certain this would last. Perhaps they would become more in the future. It certainly felt nice to flirt with him, his little gestures and his adoring glances when he thought she didn't notice. But they certainly weren't like Harry and Luna, whose strong commitment to each other was clear as the summer sky. She had no doubt about one day becoming aunt to their children. Only time could tell if Greg and her had a similar future.

Yes, the village had become a new home. Greg learned new magic from Brietta and how to use the local plants from Vaughan. Young Craig told him about the best places for fishing and Keena had him laughing with her antics around the other children. Hermione stayed near Sheila most of the time, the elderly woman instantly acting like her grandmother would in her stead, a small smile often gracing her lips and a knowing twinkle in her eyes. For once, Hermione didn't feel the urge to hide behind a book. She was allowed to simply be, to breathe and to feel free. No pressure, no expectations, just live. And today, Sheila took her to this place, certainly a highlight of her vacation.

 _The Anderworld!_

.

This night, they needed hours to find sleep at last. Too many pictures filled their mind, too many foreign sounds and unexpected sights, not to speak of the smells. Flowers that smelled liked baked apples; waves of deep blue grass, fluffy and incredible soft; air that caressed the skin – every minute of their stay brought another dozen wonders. Squirrels, chirping like birds; rabbits playfully chasing foxes, and wolves coddling with toddlers and fawns; nothing they knew about animal behaviour from their own world counted in this one. Faeries were everywhere, some of them nice, others not so. Some liked to prank them; others were haughty and treated the visitors like mud under their shoes. Others again were friendly and showed them their favourite flowers or some especially comfortable batch of grass to lie on. Hermione had gathered a couple of leaves she especially liked – not without asking for allowance to take them with her – and Greg had been hard-pressed not pick up a couple of especially cute fox whelps.

One of the younger faeries even tried to smuggle herself into the normal world by taking a ride in Hermione's bag pack. After getting detected, she got a good scolding from her older siblings, but Hermione had the impression the little prankster would try it again next chance. Most of all, they had been impressed by the leprechauns. Sheila had warned them about this special brand of inhabitants of the Anderworld. Leprechauns were, like humans, not simply good or bad. Some of them were well-meaning, others full of hate or wanted to be left alone. You had to be careful around them and always think twice about any wish you utter. Like Arabian Djinns, Leprechauns liked to take wishes verbally and pervert their meaning. Often you ended with something that made you sorry for ever uttering the wish, to hope for everything to get back to the start.

"Never visit this place on your own, without an experienced leader," Sheila had forcefully warned them in the end. "Time is different at this place, and on your own you can easily return to our human world with years having passed since your departure. Or you could lose yourself to the Anderworld, forgetting who you are, never to return to your friends and family. Like the dreamlands you already visited, the Anderworld is not for the careless. It's less dark, but not without dangers of its own."

Yes, they would be careful. But hopefully, they would be able to visit the place again in the future.

.

 _ **Longbottom Manor**_ _ **–**_ _ **19**_ _ **th**_ _ **of April**_

.

"Welcome, welcome! Please come in," Neville greeted his guests with a broad but slightly nervous smile and stepped aside to let them enter. He had been a bit anxious about this day, fearful that something had changed through the events of the past weeks, but those fears were soon squashed as Bill simply stepped forward and pulled him into a bear hug. Charlie followed a close second, while Arthur watched the show, not caring about the tears in his eyes.

"Welcome at Longbottom Manor… Arthur," Augusta greeted him a bit more restrained than her grandson but still warmly.

"Thank you for having us… Augusta," Arthur thanked her with a smile, and he really meant it. Luckily, Neville's grandmother had believed his claims of never knowing about Albus' duplicity regarding the Scion of House Longbottom. Instead, Augusta had sincerely thanked him for taking good care of Neville for all those years. That Arthur never had distanced himself from him, even after the events of Halloween, had only increased the respect she felt for Arthur and his integrity. Arthur never had stopped seeing a son in Neville, and the teenager felt the same. So, in a way, Augusta and Arthur were family now as well, irrespective of legal and blood bonds. And today was about renewing those bonds.

.

"Molly is with Aunt Muriel today," Arthur explained a bit later. It was the Wednesday after Easter, and the Weasley boys had used the chance to get away from the Burrow and visit Neville, while the Twins and Ronald stayed at home. Ginny was Merlin knew where again. Neville looked happy to them, more relaxed and like he was finally finding his place in the world. And even Arthur was hard-pressed to remember Alice and Augusta looking this well. More than once he had feared for Alice in the past years. Even news of her suicide wouldn't have been impossible for a while. She had been withering away, with nobody able to get through her walls of pain and despair. The change was incredible. While not back to her former self, the bubbly, buoyant woman she had been in those weeks after the births of Ron, Harry and Neville, she was slowly getting there again.

"Poor Molly," Neville sighed. Molly had hurt him, and he had never been as close to her as with Arthur, but she had been his mother for more than a decade and he still cared for her. Aunt Muriel was a vile woman, not only in his eyes. She was one of those humans only family was willing to endure, and even those only from time to time. Not even Molly deserved a day of Muriel's sharp tongue.

"She'll survive," Arthur shrugged. He sighed deeply. "She … she is slowly coming to terms with the truth, Neville." Neville looked up, his eyes narrowed. "About you," Arthur explained. "What really happened that you're the victim in this and not…"

"A traitor?" Neville hissed. That word had hurt.

Arthur nodded. "Yes. It's … hard for her. Albus had always been," he gestured erratically.

"A great man," Bill supplied, "bigger than life and without a fault."

Arthur agreed. "Something like that, yeah. She never doubted him. It left her only you as a target for her feel of betrayal. But with the truth being revealed, she's able to see her errors at last. Especially how all of this hurt your mother, that really troubles Molly."

This he could easily believe. Neville had never doubted Molly's _motherness_ , only her ability to reason. "I still haven't received any apology from her."

Arthur sighed again. "She wants to, she really does. But she doesn't know how to start."

Neville was silent for a long time, knowing that he had the silent support of his mother and Parvati. However, this was for him to decide. Actually, he wasn't certain if he ever could forgive Molly. She had deeply hurt him with her silence. When he needed her most, she had abandoned him, not even curbing the accusations of the Twins and Ron. On the other hand, Arthur and three of his brothers were still close to him. Two of them visited him today; Percy was the next on the list later this week. For their sake, he was willing to try. "I'll write to her."

"Thank you, Neville," Arthur said with relief. It would certainly never be the same, but perhaps there was a chance of normality again, no traipsing around, careful not to mention his name. Now, he had only to solve the matter of Ron's behaviour.

.

"What are your intentions towards my sister?"

Charlie's eyes widened as Parvati cornered him a bit later. Standing there, arms akimbo, her glaring eyes promising serious pain should his answer not be to her liking, the little witch was strangely frightening; beautiful like her sister but scary as hell.

"I would never hurt your sister," he assured her.

Parvati narrowed her eyes. "Good start, but doesn't answer my question."

"I'm not dating her, if that's your question. Not right now, at least."

"Why not?" Parvati growled. Her sister's crush on the dragon tamer was hardly a secret. "Is she not beautiful enough?"

"Fishing for compliments?" Charlie grinned and Parvati blushed.

She shoved him a little: "You know what I mean."

"Yeah," he nodded. "Two reasons," he counted on his fingers: "Age and distance. I'm seven years older than Padma. In a few years, that will hardly matter anymore, but right now it's a world. And with me being at Rumania most of the time, it's hardly fair to her for us to start dating right now."

"So, you want to stop it before it really starts?" Parvati wondered, feeling quite unhappy about it. She loved her sister dearly and for the past months Padma had been far happier than before.

"We want to stay friends for now, pen pals for most of the year, more when we're both at home. But we're not together. We're both allowed to date others. And only in three years, when her time at Hogwarts ends, we'll have to decide how to go on."

Parvati pouted a little.

"You don't like that?" Charlie asked softly.

"No, I don't." She sighed. "But I understand. However, should you ever hurt her?"

"Not a chance," Charlie assured her.

"Good boy," Parvati commended him like a nice puppy.

Charlie grinned. "You know, I could do this as well … the whole protective older brother act, with you dating Neville and all."

Parvati smirked. "You could certainly try." The smile was frightening.

.

 _ **Hogwarts**_ _ **–**_ _ **shack of Paul and Jenny**_

.

"Paul?"

The shaman looked up from his book and watched the girl with a small knowing smile. She was troubled, had been since her return from the druid Circle. He understood the feeling, had even expected it. While Hermione had become far more open-minded over the years through her constant vicinity to Luna, she still had a well-organized mind. The nature of a place like the Anderworld thoroughly confused her. She couldn't simply accept its existence like Luna would have done. Hermione had to understand, had to put the Anderworld in a position with a quantified and qualified relation to the rest of the world.

"Is the Anderworld a part of the Dreamscape?"

"No, Hermione, it isn't."

He continued to read his book without further explanation. Paul hadn't to glance in her direction to see her pout. Somebody snickered and he rolled his eyes, answering her question more thoroughly before her angry growl got too loud. "It's something completely different, its nature and origin have a very different cause and meaning." He had the rapt attention now not only of Hermione but the other teenagers as well. While the others didn't share Hermione's innermost need to understand the nature of things, the Anderworld was strange enough and they wanted to hear about it as well.

"The Anderworld is only one of many similar places all over the world. Actually, it has many different names elsewhere. Those places differ in appearance and inhabitants, in how to get there and how hospitable or dangerous they are to us mere mortals. They came into existence because of the need of their inhabitants to get separated from the increasingly expanding and threatening humanity. Magic felt the wish of the magical creatures and races to find a place hidden from the view of humans. It created niches that were very near to the world but still not easy to reach. Because of this origin, we humans will always stay only visitors at those places, only allowed to visit with the indulgence of the inhabitants. Actually, I know only of a very small number of humans that constantly live there. Even the druids only rarely go there, always careful not to stay for too long and not to annoy the rightful inhabitants. And because of the origin as a hideout, the inhabitants are stronger there than in our world while we are weaker. It's one of the reasons the Anderworld is quite dangerous to us."

"And the Dreamscape?"

"The Dreamscape," Paul continued. "It's more like a magical-natural phenomenon. You certainly know of the different layers of the atmosphere separating us from the emptiness of the void called outer space?" The teenagers nodded. Stratosphere and those things, they had read about it. "The dreamscape is something similar. There is a place – for simplicity's sake let us call it the Plane of Magic. As far as I know, it is completely alien to us. Visiting it would utterly confuse us, perhaps even break our minds if not severely prepared in advance." He stalled, looking in the direction of Harry and Jenny. "Actually, I only know of a handful people that had done that deed, two of them living in our village."

Harry's eyes widened. Jenny whispered: "Mum, she is one of those, right?"

Paul nodded gravely. "Yes, she visited that place. I don't know why and what happened there. She doesn't speak about that place and a beg you not to ask her." The teenagers silently agreed.

Feeling the tension, Hermione hastened to return to the original topic. "And the Dreamscape … it separates us from that Plane of Magic like the Stratosphere separates us from the void?"

"Absolutely correct, ten points to Ravenclaw." Hermione rolled her eyes. Everybody knew how much her view had changed over the years regarding the importance of house points. "It's one of the many layers between the Plane of Magic and the Plane of Mortals, and not even the closest one to Earth. It's only the one easiest to reach for us and with the least amount of danger to get lost. We use it quite often but still have to be careful. It's like swimming in the river along your village: you know its currents and dangers, and you know how to cross it or use it for transport, but you still have to be careful and it is still able to surprise you badly. But different to the Anderworld, the origin of the dreamscape has nothing to do with the creatures living there. They are visitors there as well, drawn to the place because of its magic but not its creators. Another important difference is the simple expanse of the place. The Anderworld is a chain of very limited and local places, many of them connected through pathways but still separated from each other. Many of them aren't bigger than a sports field, the rest not encompassing more than the area of a small hill, glade or forest. The dreamscape, on the other hand, is world-encompassing. In theory, you could circle the whole world and never leave it."

Hermione looked very thoughtful for a while. "I think I begin to understand."

Paul smiled. He had spoken beforehand with Martin about the teenagers' visit to the druids' circle and the Anderworld. One of the reasons for them to arrange it was their expectation that someday it would be Hermione who took the next step in really understanding the dreamscape in a scientific manner. While Paul and Martin had a natural feeling for it – Martin even more than Paul – they weren't one step closer to understand the science behind it. No, it would be someone like Hermione to take that step. He was eager to watch her make it in the years to come.

.

 _ **Somewhere within Hogwarts**_

.

"Don't fret! Everything will be alright."

Granny sipped her tea, a look of concern on her grizzled face. The tea in the second cup was cooling down, not that she ever expected for _Her_ to make an appearance. _She_ rarely did. However, Granny felt her presence. _She_ was near, pouting because of the rules binding her. Helga, Granny's mistress in old times, hadn't been happy about them, but both Salazar and Rowena had been adamant about placing them on the burgeoning castle spirit. _She_ was simply too strong to be left unchecked – or so they assumed at least. Neither Helga nor Granny shared that sentiment. Many bad things never would have happened without those bindings. Granny remembered the day Myrtle died. _She_ had been floored. Of all weapons at hand, young Tom just had to use the basilisk, Salazar's creature, meant to protect the castle and its inhabitants and the one weapon that prohibited _Her_ from interfering.

 _She_ needed years to emotionally recover from that ordeal. Afterwards, _She_ had increased even more her commitment to protecting the students. Never again she would allow one of her charges to die. While the years hadn't been simple, especially towards the end of Tom's reign of terror, _She_ had been able to prevent any further deaths at Hogwarts. Among the living, only Remus knew that it hadn't been James Potter alone who rescued young Severus on that day in the Shrieking Shack. It had been _Her_ appearance that stopped the infuriated werewolf long enough to compensate for Sirius Black's stupidity. And how often had it been _Her_ actions that stopped young Neville from getting hurt or killed through one of Albus' machinations? _She_ had gotten angrier every time she had to watch the headmaster execute one of his vapid plans. It culminated in her appearance at the First Task. Nothing else would have been able to rescue the boy on that day. And it was a strict sign addressed at the headmaster as well.

" _Stop this nonsense right now or you'll pay for it"_ had been the message. And he seemed to understand at last. In a few days he would leave the school – hopefully forever.

"Good riddance!" Granny growled, being nearly as angry as _She_ was.

Granny felt the waves of impotent rage fill the room. "I know, I know," she whispered, trying to sooth _Her_. "He will be alright. Nothing will happen to him. Selene will protect him where you can't go." Granny felt her calm down a bit, sensed the unspoken question. "Yes, I'm certain."

Selene Lovegood belonged to the long list of students that had been protected by _Her_ in the past. Rejecting Tom's offers once too often, he had tried to send a signal to the other students. A potion mishap, not unlike the one that killed her years later, was prepared to happen, only prevented because _She_ sent Selene a warning. It wasn't a life debt per se, as _She_ had never endangered herself in the process, but it still bound Selene to _Her_ , even after all those years, even in Afterlife. It needed only a small message to make Selene follow the dirty rat, explore what Tom was preparing for young Harry. Hearing that this was about the boy her daughter loved only enhanced Selene's will to assist in the matter. Now, Selene was _Her_ extended arm, her tool to protect her students even hundreds of miles away from the castle.

"None of them will die, Granny. I won't allow it," the voice thundered through the room and her mind.

"I know you won't," Granny answered with a soft smile.

 _Never again!_

.

 _ **A/N**_

 _There are only 4–5 chapters left. Next one will be about Albus and Myrtle._


	24. Chapter 24 Changing of the guards

**Changing of the Guards**

.

 _ **Board of Governors – 22**_ _ **nd**_ _ **of April**_

.

Headmaster Albus Dumbledore entered the room, subdued. Professor McGonagall followed him, uncertain how to feel. Both didn't doubt how this meeting would end: Albus' would be removed from his position as the Headmaster of Hogwarts. After more than fifty years her old friend and mentor would leave the school, possibly forever. And while he had made some grievous errors in the past, she felt bad for him.

Minerva looked around, glancing at the governors gathering in the room. This room eerily reminded her of a court room today, with Albus as the defendant. She wasn't certain of her role in this trial. Her past actions had hardly been flawless. Far from it. Agatha Pinegrew was leading the meeting. She belonged to one of the oldest and most influential grey families. She was no friend of Albus, but a staunch believer in tolerance and compassion. Actually, the Pinegrews only were called "grey" because they had always kept their distance to Albus' faction. Like Augusta, Agatha had been a good friend to Minerva in former times, a friendship destroyed mostly by Minerva's blindly following her mentor. Today both Augusta and Agatha would work furiously on demoting Albus; their facial expressions told as much. And with the support of Sirius Black and Lucius Malfoy, Albus had no more chance to keep his position than a snowball had to survive in hell.

 _An era will end today_ , she sighed and sat down. _We'll have to wait and see who'll rule over the next one._

.

"By the way," Sirius said in a nonchalant manner. "From now on, my dear cousin Andromeda Tonks will assume the role of a governor in my stead. I'm still too busy reforming my house to give the job the attention it deserves and she has always been interested."

"I'm certain she'll be a fine asset to the board," Dolores Umbridge gushed. Her simpering was grating on Minerva's nerves. As the Ministry's delegate to the board meeting, she had no voting voice but a right to be there and voice her opinion. And voice she did, as often and as loud as she could. The first part of the meeting had been over very quickly and proved anticlimactic. It ended, unsurprisingly, with the board thanking Albus for his long service to the school and their wish for a happy and fulfilling life – far away from the school. There hadn't even been much of a discussion and Albus had hardly been allowed to speak on his behalf. Albus accepted it with a stony face, his mind certainly already planning his next step. His demotion wouldn't be the end of Albus' political agenda. Minerva was sure of that.

Since then, they had been talking about possible successors in the mix of small talk what actually reminded Minerva of a pack of sharks fighting with each other over the remains of their bloody prey. Albus had only been allowed to stay out of sheer politeness. Actually, Agatha Pinegrew opposed Lucius' attempt to kick him out of. Augusta had first been sour-faced, but in the end deferred to her friend's opinion. Still, while allowed to stay, Albus had no say; This became apparent very soon. His attempt to get Minerva promoted was stopped cold. In the eyes of the governors, she was too close to Albus and should have tried harder to keep him in check in the past. Minerva had to admit how right they were. She hadn't done her job very well. As Deputy Headmistress, she was meant to be a regulating and controlling factor to the Headmaster. Which she hadn't done adequately. So she simply didn't deserve the position anymore, irrespective of how long she had been in function at Hogwards. Her graceful acceptance of the board's decision had got her a tight smile from Augusta and a small nod from Agatha. Perhaps there was still hope to salvage their friendship somehow.

Sirius mock bowed towards the despicable woman. Not that Umbridge realized the gesture for what it was: a sign of contempt and signal to be quiet. "Thank you for your support. I'm certain she'll do a fine job. Andy has always been a strong-headed woman and won't allow prejudice and intolerance to take hold at Hogwarts. For her talent, personality and honour are more important than blood. As she is married to a Muggleborn, she'll add a unique insight to the work of the board, I'm sure." Naturally, his thoughts on the matter diverged drastically, but this would be the official stance of House Black for the foreseeable future. Offering this position to Andromeda Tonks had been a well-considered step on his master's part.

Umbridge's smile slipped slightly. Minerva wondered what her agenda was in this meeting. It was well-known what Umbridge thought of Muggleborn and all so-called half-breeds. Her attempts to keep her temper under control and play nice today were equally obvious. Who was it whom Minister Fudge wanted as the new headmaster? He had tried long enough to get rid of Albus, spurred on by Malfoy. Now, he would certainly try to make a move.

"Now about the next Headmaster," Lucius interrupted their friendly exchange. Everybody turned around and waited for his next statement. Lucius Malfoy had lost a big chunk of his political clout but still had quite some connections and influence in the Ministry, which Albus' demotion only proving further. "I would think that we need someone who has the necessary academic background and experience for this position as well as the respect of the students and teachers. In my eyes, the best possible candidate would be Potion Master Severus Snape." Deep inside, Lucius wasn't all too happy about his old friend. Severus had kept his distance in the past months and a couple of his decisions and public statements had been questionable. But from the possible and realistic candidates he was still the best option.

"No," Umbridge rejected the proposition vehemently. "He can't. Impossible."

"And why not?" Agatha Pinegrew wondered loudly. Actually, she knew something about this proposition the others didn't, but for now she wanted to hear what this despicable woman had to say. "He has been a teacher and head of house Slytherin long enough. And certainly has the necessary academic standing if we consider his NEWT results and position as Potion Master." She said nothing about the matter of respect, something noticed by a couple of governors.

"But he's…" Dolores stopped herself. She wanted to say "a Half-Blood", but noticed just in time that this wouldn't go over all too well with some of the governors. "… too young," she added belatedly and a little meekly.

"His age only means he's healthy enough to keep the position for a long time," Lucius sneered. "Yes, he's a bit young, but hardly a teenager."

"The Minister had a different candidate in mind," Dolores whined. This wasn't how she intended to break the topic.

"The Minister has no say in this matter," Lucius sneered again. For once, he had the full support of Minerva. There had been a couple of attempts by the Minister to influence Hogwarts, most of them instigated by none else than Lucius Malfoy.

"He has the right to offer suggestions," Dolores wasn't willing to back down so easily. She looked pleadingly towards Sirius Black, hoping for support but gaining neither.

"And whom did he have in mind?" Agatha asked, her voice a slight mock.

"Me!" Dolores said, a smile splitting her face, the expression like it was ridiculous to even ask.

Agatha blinked. Nobody deigned to even remark that suggestion. "So, about that idea of making Potion Master Snape the next Headmaster of Hogwarts…"

"Hem, hem!"

"Yes?" Agatha frowned. She didn't like being interrupted, even less by a cockroach like Umbridge.

"What about the Minister's suggestion? Certainly…"

"We're only discussing serious suggestions, Miss Umbridge," Agatha stopped her coldly. Minerva bit back a smirk at the "Miss" address. There had been some unfriendly rumours in the past about Dolores being the eternal virgin, and obviously Agatha wasn't willing to us the honorific "Madam".

"But it is," Dolores was whining again. Why couldn't they see reason?

This time Minerva wasn't able to suppress the snicker. Dolores glared in her direction but Minerva was unimpressed, even more so because of the hint of amusement she detected in the eyes of Agatha and Augusta. For a moment, she was reminded of better times, when the trio of friends had been meeting for a cup of tea, exchanging stories about the latest ministerial stupidity. Hopefully, she would experience such afternoons again in the future. "Do I really have to remind you of your academic… achievements, Dolores?" She asked bitingly. "You were hardly able to gather a couple of A's in your NEWTs. It's a wonder you were able to get more than a lowly clerk position at the Ministry." Actually, she didn't wonder. There had been far too many vicious rumours about Dolores getting her promotions through bribery and blackmail. The woman was proof of everything that was wrong in todays' administration.

Dolores turned an unhealthy shade of puce. She looked like she would get an apoplexy any moment. They dared. These morons dared to reject her. They weren't even willing to discuss the suggestion. Instead they wanted to honour that worthless half-blood scum…

"Stop your temper tantrum right now," Augusta Longbottom scolded her harshly. Only now did Dolores notice that she had spoken out loudly. "If you can't behave yourself, you will have to leave this meeting."

"Fine!" Dolores huffed. She grabbed her things and left the room without deigning them another glance or word.

"Alright, back to the topic at hand."

.

Severus Snape's rejection of the possible promotion had been a surprise, one Lucius Malfoy hadn't expected. But the letter Agatha Pinegrew had received advance warning from Snape himself. He intended to leave the school at the end of term and concentrate on his research work as a Potion Master. Minerva had no doubt that Severus' leave had much to do with Albus' demotion. Albus had been his friend and mentor in the past but also some kind of jailer, unwilling to let Severus go. He would using this opportunity to get full control of his life back. Albus' sour-lemon-look was merely a bonus.

Minerva had no doubt that the future proclamation of this decision would have three quarters of the school in wild cheers. Severus had never loved teaching and even with the improvements of the past months he was hardly well-loved and respected among the students; widely feared, yes, but not respected like the other three heads of house. Research was the better choice, and Severus should have more than enough money in his vault for a successful running start. While his parents had hardly left anything beside that awful shack, the royalties for his patents accounted to a steady influx. Over the past decade, he invented quite a number of interesting potions; potions that got used regularly in St. Mungo's and other hospitals around the world. Not to speak of the fact that Severus was one of the few European Potion Masters able to brew Felix Felicis, the luck potion.

However, this left the governors in quite the quandary: Minerva was ill-reputed, Severus unavailable. Madam Sprout didn't possess enough political accumen and was, in Minerva's opinion, far too nice and honest for the necessary political backstabbing. Pomona wanted to take care of her badgers and plants, not squabble with the board of governors and the Ministry. Filius was a part-Goblin, and while that didn't bother Minerva, there were far too many important people thinking otherwise. On all accounts, she had to prevent some Ministry lackey or, Merlin beware, Umbridge to get the job. So, who could it be?

"If I may offer a suggestion?"

Minerva was equally surprised as the rest of the audience to hear her own voice interrupt the endless squabble. With the obvious choices impossible and nobody willing to accept the ministerial suggestion, they had so far not been able to settle on a different choice. Agatha made an inviting gesture, ignoring Malfoy's glare and Black's deep frown.

"As I see the situation, we are in need of getting a new Headmaster quite fast. Because of the Tournament, we don't have the time for an in-depth inquiry. By changing the Headmaster now, with the bad publicity of the past events, the magical public world-wide will be watching us closely."

"We all know this already. What of your suggestion?" Lucius Malfoy wondered a little irritated.

 _Patience is a virtue_ , Minerva mused. "I'll come to that in a moment. Perhaps it would be the better alternative for now to choose someone as a temporary Headmaster. Someone the public would be willing to accept because he is well-known and widely accepted, with the academic background Mister Malfoy mentioned, and completely unprejudiced so far about the tournament and the whole two Harry Potter matter."

"And who do you have in mind? Who might this miracle worker be?"

"I was thinking of Potion Master Horace Slughorn," Minerva declared. "He was a teacher here and Head of House Slytherin for a long time. He is widely connected and, while retired at the moment, would surely be willing to accept the job for a predetermined period. I would suggest offering him the post for the rest of the school year and the next one, so you have enough time to find an acceptable long-term solution." Minerva had no doubt that Horace would jump at the opportunity, especially now with all the publicity and the international guests. What could be better for him and his net-working?

"A splendid idea;" surprisingly it was Sirius Black who was first to jump on board. His master had spoken fondly of the man, not because he respected him, but because he had been easily duped by the young Tom Riddle and even helped him with the whole Horcrux matter.

"A good choice, yes," Lucius agreed. A Slytherin was always a good choice in his mind. Slughorn was politically savvy; a man that understood the world of politics and gentleman agreements. Contrary to Dumbledore, the new headmaster would be appreciative of little presents and hidden briberies. Actually, he was a far better choice than Severus, not to speak of the better reputation. _Why haven't I thought of this?_

"Everybody in favour?"

They still had to work out a couple of details, but in the end they agreed on it: Agatha Pinegrew would, with the backing of the whole board, offer Horace Slughorn the job of interims headmaster.

 _May Merlin help us all_ , Minerva sighed. _I really hoped I haven't totally messed this up_.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Headmaster's Office – 23**_ _ **rd**_ _ **of April**_

.

Everything went so fast yesterday, too fast to keep up, to really absorb the changes hitting him.

Tomorrow, he would leave the school. The students already knew this as the papers had been quick to spread the news: Albus Dumbledore, defeater of Grindelwald and long-term Headmaster of Hogwarts, gets the boot in a swift and undignified manner. There would be no festivity, no farewell words or parting gifts. While not thinking often about it in the past, there had been this picture in his mind of him, very old, very dignified, sitting in his comfy chair in the great hall, with Filius and his choir singing for him, students of all ages saying their farewell, teary-eyed that he had to leave for his well-earned retirement. Former students would get in line to thank him for everything he did in the past. The staff would promise to invite him as often as possible to all kind of festivities. Minerva would offer him her dancing card in advance for the next school ball, and everybody would be very sad, reminiscing the past, speaking softly of former events and telling anecdotes of better times.

The Ministry would have been there as well, politicians from all over the world, with journalists taking dozens of photos, dignitaries lining up for a last picture with him. The very next day, every European newspaper would have gotten a picture of him on their front page, lauding his deeds for education and the youth of Great Britain, declaring how hard it would be for his successor to fill his shoes; a successor that would have been his old friend and protégée Minerva McGonagall. _It should have been her_ , Albus mused. _She has the experience and personality_. Merlin, Minerva had done most of the work for years already. How often had he left Hogwarts in her hands for some meeting of the Wizengamot or ICW, certain that she would keep the house clean? She had his trust. She should have had the trust of the board of governors as well. Instead, while tumbling into the abyss, he tore her down as well and destroyed her academic future. Minerva would stay a teacher and head of house Gryffindor. Hopefully, the next headmaster would allow her to keep her job as his deputy as well. Any other solution would be silly and damaging to the school. But never again would Minerva have a shot at the job of headmistress. She had hoped for it, he knew. Sometimes they had been speaking about the possibility over a cup of tea or a tumbler of Whiskey, Minerva being a mix of hope and slight guilt, Albus smiling patiently and wishing her the best.

 _She had my trust_ , Albus mused.

The key word there was "had". So much had changed to the worse as a rift grew between them. For many years Minerva had been his rock, the one person he fully trusted. Yes, even with her he had to remain close-lipped about dirty details here and there ( the secret about the Longbottom-boy for example). But all in all, there had been very few people that even came near her in matters of loyalty and friendship. And now this friendship had taken a serious blow. Week by week, Minerva had slipped farther away. Her disappointed looks had hurt far more than the angry glares and her punch on Halloween. Perhaps, it was better this way, with Horace in place. He would be more malleable, more willing to accept Albus' wise counsel. The loss of influence would still hurt, but it would not be as bad as Minerva hissing at him like an angry cat.

For a long moment, his eyes rested on the forlorn perch. "You're angry with me as well, aren't you, my old friend?"

Fawkes hadn't returned. He was still his familiar, the magical ties binding them strongly. The Phoenix had to be really angry with him to stay away this long, struggling against the pull of Albus' call. Their bond was very old and had always been strong. Albus had undergone the effort to strengthen it through a couple of – not widely known and rare – rituals. Within the last decade, he'd actually known of one other wizard using them. The same wizard who had now driven this very edge. Fawkes hadn't been happy about the Longbottom affair. Albus still hoped that his old friend would return one day. Despite their fiery natures, Phoenix rarely got angry, but needed a long time to chill down. As long as the bond existed, there was still hope. He really needed his old friend, now more than ever. Times were harsh enough and for the first time in decades he feared to be alone.

Albus took a deep, shuddering breath. Irrespective of his personal problems, he still had a job to do. He had written a long letter to Horace and tried to prepare those few organisational things left in his care. Most of those things had already been in Minerva's hands and if Horace was the clever – and lazy – man Albus remembered, he would leave it that way. His successor intended to start his new job in a few days, the board allowing him a little respite to organize his own house before he left it for more than a year. _Only a year he'll be headmaster_ , Albus mused, _but I'm sure he'll do fine_. And he certainly will have his farewell party with wishes, presents and photos.

"Damn it Potter", he hissed. "why couldn't you stay away a bit longer?" Voldemort was returning; he felt it in his bones. Soon, the climax of their decade-long war would approach, a time for the great Albus Dumbledore to defeate another Dark Lord. It would still happen, he had no doubt. But the events around the real Harry Potter struck a serious blow to his plans.

Sitting down in his comfortable chair – a chair he solidly intended to take with him – Albus closed his eyes. "I have to see the positive side," he mumbled. Potter's return had opened other opportunities as well. After all, there still was the matter of the Horcrux the boy was carrying around in his scar. This brought him to another matter: the mirror. It was still hidden in the chambers below Hogwarts, waiting for him to decide what to do. Entering Hogwarts would be more difficult in the future but still possible in case of emergency. He could take the mirror with him, but that would be too dangerous. It was more secure if left in place. His plan about a beast being possessed by the mirror's soul sliver, fighting Potter, and dying while taking the boy along for the ride, hadn't come to fruition yet. This time he couldn't trust Hagrid. He had to use other ways, more appropriate for Malfoy and his ilk. He had to be careful, and secretive. There were far too many people who would try to stop him. And even afterwards, after Potter's death, it was better for him not being connected with the plot. All of this lengthened the time he needed for the acquisition of the beast. Luckily he had plenty of time now. Potter would stay at Hogwarts for another two months, more than enough time to prepare everything.

 _Perhaps I even could smuggle the beast into the tournament_ , he pondered, liking the idea: Potter dying under the eyes of hundreds of spectators. The tournament was a dangerous event, everybody knew this. _I will have to think about this further_.

 _Yes, I'll leave the mirror where it is, protected by Hogwarts' strong wards_. Albus had no idea, how close the British magical world would come to utter annihilation or at least decades of war with this one decision: to leave the mirror at Hogwarts, in range of the one enemy he had to fear. Even if someone had told him, he wouldn't have believe it, far too convinced only his opinion counted. The great Albus Dumbledore was never wrong.

Albus left the cosy seat and looked around in his office. _Time to pack!_

.

 _ **Next Day – somewhere in Hogwarts**_

.

It had been a gamble, a wager about how correct he was at guessing Dumbledore's reactions.

In the end, getting his old enemy suspended hadn't been an important intermediate object on his road to complete control. And certainly, he didn't have to do it right now. In truth, he had gone through with the plan mostly to hurt the old man and breake his heart. Just because he could. There had been a risk in doing that. Dumbledore could have decided to take the mirror with him behind the walls of Dumbledore Manor – small as it may be. It would have made stealing the object far more difficult. Not impossible, but more difficult nonetheless. Tom wasn't too eager to confront the old man in a one-on-one battle, not as long as he had to do with the limits of Ginny Weasley's small core and a big chunk of his soul and knowledge missing. To his relief he had been guessed correctly: Dumbledore left the mirror behind, trusting the old wards to protect his most precious possession.

A last ward was still separating Tom from his goal. After months of preparations, rituals and sacrificing Muggleborn to strengthen himself, he was ready to break it. However, it would alarm Dumbledore, so he had to wait for the last possible moment. And that moment was closing in.

Tom thought about Dumbledore's successor. Horace Slughorn's promotion had been a welcome surprise. Pettigrew had done well. Actually, he had done more than well in the past months, surprisingly blossoming into a real asset. He would never be a first-class wizard or masterful tactician, but he became really useful, far more than anticipated. And Pettigrew didn't act out of greed or a thirst for power. He followed Tom and did his best to further his plans because he craved for respect and praise. Tom had seen his in his mind how his older self had treated the man. Pain and fear had been the main instruments of the older Voldemort. _Stupid, that's so stupid_ , Tom groaned. Both had a place in his arsenal, but other tools were far more effective. Pettigrew, respected him, adored him even if in a slightly creepy way. And all he wanted in return was a nice word now and then, best of all in front of others. Tom could work with that. The results were more than adequate. So far, Pettigrew hadn't disappointed him, performing every task Tom ordered him to do.

The last task had been no different. Tom glanced at the notes he got from Pettigrew. They were quite accurate and very detailed. Some magical details missed because Pettigrew simply lacked the talent to notice them, but Tom had expected this. For now, it would have to do. Soon enough, he would visit the place himself for a little ritualistic mayhem.

 _Soon!_

.

 _ **Somewhere not far away**_

.

"The time is nearing," Matron Mathilda mumbled through sipping her tea.

The room around her was empty. At least, it looked empty, but Mathilda knew better. Lady Hogwarts was listening. She had been around Mathilda more often in the past years, guiding and teaching her for the moment she would accept the job – Granny's job. Mathilda closed her eyes and a single tear slipped down her wrinkled cheek. After nearly a millennium of dutiful service, Granny would leave the castle at last to join a dozen generations of her descendants in the afterlife. Mathilda would miss her dearly, her wise counsel, her caring words and the sheer warmth of her presence. Would she be able to fill those shoes? She had her doubts, but Granny and Lady Hogwarts believed otherwise. And didn't Granny deserve her peace?

 _The time is nearing._

It was true in more than one sense. Shackles would be undone, riddles solved and slaves freed – this way or another, be it the freedom of life or death. And the danger for Hogwarts would come to an end after more than five decades of growing and pestering. This danger at least, as more would arise in the future. It would be her job to protect the students, the staff and the castle.

Helga Hufflepuff had left behind more than one legacy when she died. The Hogwarts Clan of House-Elves certainly wasn't the smallest or most unimportant among them.

"We won't disappoint you, dear lady," Mathilda whispered.

 _She knows._

.

 _ **Magical Glade near Hogwarts – 1**_ _ **st**_ _ **of May**_

.

 _Healing magic works better if there is a close connection between healer and patient._ She still remembered those words by heart, and today they would act in their spirit.

Luna didn't say anything. She didn't ask if Hermione was right, knowing without words how her sister felt. Her bond allowed her to see the fear in Hermione's heart, the trembling hope in her chest that didn't dare to truly raise its beautiful head. Was it the right thing to do? Would it change her? Hermione had long accepted how much her injuries had changed her personality, for better and for worse. It made her small and cowardly in the beginning, caused her to hide in the shadows and keep her head down. Then it made her strong and fearless, let her compassion and her ability to look behind the mask grow. She was far different from the girl who entered Hogwarts years ago. She was still Hermione Granger but at the same time she was not. And like the injuries she received in the troll incident had changed her, so would this.

Hermione's hand glided down her leg, feeling every single dent and unnatural angle, every bone that was out of place since the troll's club shattered it. Her hand went up towards her shoulder. The uneven one, the one that was proof of the worst moment of her life, of the moment that likewise brought her Luna, her sister. She looked up, her fear, doubts and insecurities vanishing as Hermione's eyes locked with Luna's. Her sister would never leave her, never betray her, and always stand by her side. This day would change her body, but not her soul, not this bond she was feeling, that filled her heart with endless wonder.

Luna stepped forward and embraced her, hugging her for a seemingly endless time.

"Let's go! Greg is waiting for you."

.

"Hello Hermione," Penny Clearwater greeted her a bit later. She didn't possess Luna's bond allowing her to see Hermione's heart and soul, but she didn't need it either. She remembered the friends' visit weeks ago quite clearly, how Hermione had told her about this day. Walpurgis Night, the night to celebrate life and a new beginning. Two rituals would take place today, both very different but at the same time very important. She wouldn't be part of the ritual. Nor was she here, like Madam Longbottom, to alleviate the new Headmaster's qualms. No, Penny had a simple reason to be here: to support a friend, a girl that had grown into a younger sister for her. Even without the bond Hermione and Luna shared, she was very close to the girl and didn't expect that to ever change. Hermione feared what would happen tonight. She feared that the ritual wouldn't be successful and at the same time feared that it might be. And if Penny's presence helped Hermione even the slightest bit, then she was willing to do without a good night's sleep. Further, Penny admitted to herself, her inner Ravenclaw was giddy with the prospect of watching this unusual bit of magic.

"Hello Alice, Neville … Hedwig," Hermione face split into a smile, the first one in days. Alice Longbottom was present as a chaperone, Neville as her friend and Hedwig… because she was Hedwig. The beautiful snow-owl was riding on Neville's shoulder and watched the scenery with calm eyes, blinking slowly now and then. Since the ritual that bound her to Neville she was never far away from him, often even sharing classes. A surprisingly mild-heart Professor Snape had even joked about Hedwig being better at potions than Neville after she once nipped his ear for choosing the wrong ingredient. Neville had started to speak mentally to her and slowly learned to use her as his eyes and ears. More than once, Hermione found him sitting in their group's meeting room, his eyes closed and his body relaxed, with a soft smile on his lips. Hedwig wasn't around on those moments, and Hermione knew that the owl was somewhere else, enjoying her freedom and sharing the sensation of natural flight with her bond-master.

"He's waiting," Luna whispered into her ear, waking Hermione from her daydream. She gulped, nodded and turned around. There he was… Greg. He looked as nervous as she felt, if not more so. Paul was at his side as was Healer Marjenka. Only Harry and Jenny were missing tonight. Harry had other things to do and Jenny was watching over him, not interfering but always near.

Hermione breathed deeply, gathered her senses and stepped into the glade. It was time for healing.

.

Luna folded the robe neatly and put it on the ground right beside her. Her sister wasn't allowed to wear much in this ritual. Only a Muggle bikini allowed her some modesty, her bare skin resting on the ground. It was quite warm in the glade, even without Paul's magical boost. Luna had a hunch that this was Lady Hogwarts' influence. The great lady of the castle still felt bad about not protecting Hermione years ago. This night, she would assist in their endeavor to make it right. Paul and Marjenka were standing a couple steps away, watching Greg but not interfering. The boy had spent many days learning every detail of the ritual, had prepared the inks and brushes he would use tonight. Luna had only a small job, but an important one. She would hold Hermione's hand through the ordeal, sending her sister all her compassion and sincere love.

With careful motions, Greg used a brush to paint another set of runes onto Hermione's skin. He had done it with her legs already, continuing with her arms and chest until her reached her shoulder – the shattered shoulder. Unlike Luna, he had known the girl before the incident, known how she looked before. Much had changed, partly because of the injuries, partly because her body tried to adapt. Her right side had grown stronger over time, compensating. It had enhanced her limp despite Hermione's best attempts to walk normally and not to favor her right hand.

"Everything alright, Greg?"

Greg blinked, only now noticing that he had stopped painting the runes, the brush resting on her pale skin. He smiled weakly. "Shouldn't I be the one asking you?"

"You'll do great, I have no doubt about it," Hermione assured him, and endless pride filled his chest.

 _He wouldn't let her down. Not tonight. Never._

.

Hermione closed her eyes, but she still saw, only with different senses.

The soft wind on her skin, the night birds watching her, and her friends sending their love from the edge of the glade. Luna was holding her hand, her own hands a bit clammy but nonetheless strong and supportive. Her heart reached out to her sister's, feeling the compassion and hope while Greg's hands did their work.

Healing magic permeated her skin, her muscles and sinews, her flesh and bones. His hands molded her body, made her fly like she was spirit only. It wasn't unlike a massage – a very good and intense massage. She had her part of those in her convalescence, when her physiotherapist tried to help her recover from what he thought had been a car accident. It had been painful in the beginning, still exhausting months later. This one was intense as well, but without the pain. She had closed her eyes because it had disturbed her to watch his hands mold her body. How he bent the bones without breaking them, lengthened the leg to its former appearance. Flesh and muscles flowed with the change. They wouldn't be perfect, could never be as they had been before that Halloween night, but it would be closer than anything she had to endure for years. Hermione's leg was already healed, and now he was treating her shoulder, careful not to touch her breast. She smiled softly, her eyes still closed.

"It's okay, Greg." _I won't slap your hand away_ , was her unspoken message. He hesitated for a second and she felt him nod before he continued, now more secure than before.

"You're even more beautiful," Luna whispered and pressed her hand gently.

"Yes, she is." Hermione felt Greg's blush and responded with her own one. After her shoulder, he would work on her face. She had thought long about it. More than anything else, her face was the one thing everybody noticed. While not disfigured per se but the cheek bone had never been fully healed. In the beginning, she had tried to hide it behind her mop of hair, until Luna had convinced her to show them proudly. Now, they would be vanished, mostly at least, as she had decided to leave a single scar on her left cheek, a reminder of the one fate-changing moment.

"You may continue," she whispered softly.

"As my lady commands," Greg whispered back. And so, he did.

.

 _ **Hogwarts Library**_

.

"Hello Myrtle." Harry greeted his guest with a soft, welcoming smile. Over the past months, he had learned to like her. It wasn't the sibling-love he shared with Jenny, not even the close bond he had with Hermione, Greg and Neville. No, it resembled more how you liked your slightly dotty elderly aunt, the one you visit once a month, indulging her eccentricities with a mix of pity and affection. Harry had no doubt that Myrtle behaved like she did mostly because her early and shocking death had killed every chance of her ever growing up in an emotional healthy way. They would never know how an adult Myrtle would have been. Perhaps, she would have become a famous researcher or a respected lady of the society. A well-loved wife and mother or an embittered old spinster, she never had the chance to become either. He couldn't turn back the time, couldn't give her a second chance a living a fulfilling live, but at least he was able to assist her in this: the transition onto the next plane, the start of her next big adventure.

This part of the library was empty tonight, thanks to a little agreement between Madam Pince and her favourite Ravenclaw girls. For a moment, Harry thought about the other ritual taking place at this hour. Only Jenny was still around, but she would stay out of sight, only interfering if it became inevitable. Myrtle had been a Ravenclaw as well, fifty years ago, before a teenaged Tom Riddle used her for his nefarious plans. It had been the main reason for choosing this place and not the lavatory she used to haunt nowadays. And on top of that, the library was the far nicer location.

"Hello Harry," Myrtle responded shyly. She looked around, noticed the table and everything he had prepared for tonight. "This looks nice."

"I'm happy you like it. Tonight, is about you and I wanted it to be perfect."

Myrtle nodded, offering a small, wobbly smile. She accepted the chair offered by Harry and waited for him to begin. Unlike Myrtle, the boy wasn't wearing his usual school uniform or one of those Japanese garments he liked so much. Instead he decided to a traditional garb of the Kutenai, matching the medicine bag he loaned from Professor Peacott. The teacher of his summoning class had offered it months ago, after long conversations with Harry about this ritual, his intentions and reasons for doing this. Harry had no idea what it contained, but nonetheless he felt its effect. The border between this world and the next, the plane of mortals and the afterlife, was already thinner because of the special date. The medicine bag only enhanced this effect, caused the border to blur and nearly disintegrate. He sensed other ghosts surrounding them, watching them.

Slowly, with very calculated precision, Harry prepared the tea ceremony. Twice he had executed it for Luna already, and once each for Hermione and Jenny. Today, it was time for Myrtle's tea. Every time, the gestures had been different, the meaning another one. Every time, he had chosen a different sort of tea, but never such a unique one as today. _Tea of the Ghosts_ , it wasn't a name only but had a very real basis. Tea cup and the tea itself weren't fully from this world, allowing Myrtle to participate in the ceremony like a living person. She watched him closely now, tense and more than a little nervous.

"I'm afraid." Her voice was a whisper only but Harry didn't miss one syllable.

"Don't be." Carefully, he put the whisk down, turned the cup for exactly 90 degrees and offered it to Myrtle.

"But what if I'm not ready for this?"

"You are, I have no doubt." Harry and Myrtle had met nearly weekly for the past months, had spoken about her life, her dreams as a teenager and her regrets. She had long forgiven Olive Hornby, the classmate who had been responsible for Myrtle hiding in that lavatory. Unlike Ron Weasley, Olive Hornby had regretted her hurtful words for the rest of her life. "It was not your fault," Harry explained softly. Not unusual for a case like hers, Myrtle had alternated between making Olive Hornby responsible for her death and feeling that it had been her own fault. Only after many weeks – and even a few conversations with Luna – had she been able to accept that neither of the girls was to blame. "The Basilisk who killed you is dead. Never again will it hurt a student." Harry guessed, that the Basilisk's existence and the danger it posed to others, had been one of the reasons for Myrtle to stay.

Myrtle touched the cup without lifting it. Sensing the warmth of the tea through her finger tips, something she hadn't felt for many years, she got a wistful smile on her face, a single ghostly tear slipping down her chin. "But I've friends here."

"And we're happy to be your friends," Harry confirmed. "But you know that we'll leave the school in a few weeks. We don't want to leave you on your own around here." None of the other ghosts liked Myrtle all that much. Her whiny personality and her never growing up was a strong friendship stopper, regretfully. "It's better to go on now. Nothing is keeping you here anymore."

"But nothing is expecting me there either."

"That isn't right, Myrtle. What about your family?"

Myrtle blinked. "Do you think… they'll be waiting for me?"

"I have no doubt." Her parents had died a couple of years ago, and according to Martin there was Myrtle's brother as well. "And Benjamin as well."

Myrtle sighed deeply. "Benjamin. I miss him."

As far as Harry knew, Benjamin had been a Squib. Three years older than Myrtle and never going to Hogwarts, he had survived his sister for nearly four decades, before getting killed in the last days of the wizarding war, only weeks before Harry's parents died. Unlike Myrtle, he never turned into a ghost but instantly left for the afterlife. "The wards of Hogwarts stopped him from visiting you. They were too strong for him, even on Halloween. But he is still waiting for you." Another detail told by Martin, another piece of Martin's knowledge Harry wasn't too eager to think about. "Don't you think it's time to meet him again?"

Myrtle nodded shakily. She wanted to believe this, wanted to believe Harry that it was the truth. It wasn't like she loved being here. It was only the one existence she had known for many years. Before she lost her courage again, Myrtle grabbed the cup and lifted it to her ghostly lips.

 _Time to go!_

.

 _ **A/N**_

 _I'm not completely content with the part about Myrtle. Please PM if you have any ideas how to enhance the chapter._

 _Next time: last preparations for the third task._


	25. Chapter 25 Are you ready for this?

_**A/N**_

 _I'm sorry for the long delay. Working hours have been very long this year, and I seriously lacked the drive to continue writing the way I intended. Mercifully, the story is nearly finished. I've only planned two more chapters and an epilogue. This chapter will be a bit shorter than usual (only 5,500 words). Next time we'll watch the third task already. Have fun._

 _You'll have to wait a bit for the rest of the story, as I intend to first finish chapter 26 (third task) and 27 (ritual) before I publish them together._

 **.**

 **Are you ready for this?**

.

 _ **Hogwarts – 20**_ _ **th**_ _ **of May 1995**_

.

"Headaches again?"

At Paul's question, Jenny glanced to the side where Harry and his friends were training and nodded sharply. "Harry is trying to hide it, but it's troubling him. He needs to spend more and more time with meditation to keep calm and even-tempered. Luckily, Luna is still able to sooth his nerves with a single touch. Without her…" The words died on her lips.

"Yes, we're lucky to have her," Paul agreed, still feeling thankful of how much this slip of a girl had changed the life of his young friend. For a while, the duo watched Harry in silence. In the past couple of weeks, they had intensified their training to new heights. The details about the last task were still sparse. The judges had turned the Quidditch field into a labyrinth of hedges. Dense and ever-changing. Dark and confusing. The parcour through the area would be aggravated by all kinds of dangerous plants, creatures, riddles and traps. Luckily, the whole team combined possessed enough knowledge to prepare them properly. In addition of Harry, Luna, Neville, Hermione and Parvati, the team consisted of a few friends of other houses and two key assets: Charlie and Bill Weasley. As Dragons would have no part in the third task, Charlie was allowed to help Harry and Neville at long last, while Bill officially only spend time with his girlfriend.

Fleur had perhaps been the most unusual addition to the training group. Not only had she accepted Harry's invitation readily – contrary to Viktor Krum who only sneered at the friendly words – but she seemed really eager to assist the boys. Neville in particular got the most useful tips from the older girl. Nevertheless nobody – not even after all that training – expected him to play a major role in the victory rush. In the beginning, the teenagers had been confused by Fleur's honest participation and her reasons for helping the weakest champion so much. Her answer had been simple: "You're Bill's brother. You're important to him, so you're important to me."

Bill had watched the exchange proudly. Both Bill and Fleur had been helpful in training the boys on a couple of more advanced spells. While both Harry and Neville now had a solid base of simple spells, they still lacked the broad-spectrum Viktor and Fleur had at their disposal. The time was too short to fully equalize the difference in age and experience but with a dozen new spells under their belt, the youngsters stopped feeling hopeless.

Exploiting the whole team's knowledge of plants and creatures that could be used in the task they had started on tactics. Charlie unsurprisingly possessed insights into possible obstacles imported by the Durmstrang delegation. Fleur even added her own discoveries about Beauxbatons's part in this international cooperation. The joint preparation didn't mean the champions intended to use the same tactics. Each of them still had their own skills and pitfalls. While Harry intended to make the best use of his Ki Adept Powers, Neville had to be extra careful, lacking the power to strong-arm his way like the others.

"We want to take care of _it_ this summer," Paul declared a bit later, his voice barely above a whisper. "He'll be fifteen in a few weeks. His core will finally be settled enough to attempt the cleansing ritual."

"Does Mum know?"

"Yes," Paul smiled weakly. "She's… unhappy, but she still agreed."

"Unsurprising… to both." Jenny had expected such a reaction.

Michiko had always been especially concerned about Harry's scar. She had been the driving force behind the last string of examinations over Christmas break. They still didn't know much more about the scar than a decade ago: It was a sliver of Voldemort's magic. He apparently tried to perform a soul magic ritual, presumably to strengthen his magic and prolong his life. He had failed, but left traces of his magic and soul behind, mostly emotional magic that reacted strongly to both positive and negative emotions. It wasn't a real Horcrux, but quite similar in nature.

They had known this part for years already. But something had changed since Easter: The headache returned, the scar looked like inflamed and Harry had more troubles keeping calm. There had even been a quarrel or two with Jenny, something new for them. She had been shocked by Harry's outburst, and Harry immensely ashamed by his behaviour. Sincere apologies and strong sibling hugs thankfully cleansed the air.

"Is Voldemort returning?" Jenny asked, deeply concerned.

"I fear he is, yes," Paul nodded. He had always been honest with the teenagers and intended to keep doing so. Jenny deserved to know the truth. She wasn't a little girl, but a young woman willing to defend her family – Harry.

Jenny gulped. She clenched her teeth and a look of determination set into her eyes. "Then we'll have to prepare. We will be ready for him."

Paul put his hand on her shoulder, the other one buried in Floe's fur. "That we will. I have no doubt."

.

 _ **Warded Area below Hogwarts – 10**_ _ **th**_ _ **of June 1995**_

.

Two weeks – only two weeks left until the third task. Two weeks until he would get his chance to finally leave this juvenile body and return to his full strength and glory. Tom smiled evilly, amused by the hopelessness and despair he felt from the sliver that was Ginny's spirit. Her phase of insurrection had withered away as the date finally closed in. The girl knew she would die soon. Oh so soon. The force of her life, her spirit and magic would fuel the transition. His own soul would be healed at last, transferred to a new body with the full knowledge of his former life.

So far, he had been preparing the ritual with Pettigrew's assistance. Two new sacrifices - Muggleborns from one of the smaller schools - had strengthened his magic and the part of his soul that was residing in this girl's body. He fully intended to stay "Tom the younger" after the ritual, in personality at least. The "Tom" in control of his mind, emotions and behaviour, without the unbridled rage and hate of his older self. Without the temper tantrums and the senseless cruelty that caused more harm than good. He wanted to rule Great Britain, but first he needed to rule himself. Merging with the other slivers would endanger that control, especially with the older sliver inhabiting the mirror. He had to be careful. He had to prepare. This was his second chance at becoming a true emperor of magical Britain. He didn't intend to squander it.

"Everything prepared for our departure?" He asked the man to his left.

"The portkey is ready and set," Barty Crouch junior responded with a small bow. "I obliviated the clerk delivering it and it's cleared of the usual trace. He patted the side of his cloak. "I've got Polyjuice ready to mimic your appearance and a broom. I'll take a route that will look hidden but allow a couple of people to watch me – by complete chance naturally. I'll stay the night at a quite untrustworthy hovel. The proprietor will certainly try to gain a bit of money by betraying my trust. They'll find a flyer proving that I – as Miss Weasley – took a ferry to Europe."

"Sounds good," Tom was content.

Neither those false traces nor the hints he mentioned towards his family for the past months – hints about _Ginny's_ wish to see something of the world – would deceive Aurors or the Weasley family for long. But it wasn't meant to. It was just at distraction. Believability was the aim there.

They would squander their resources following those false leads, giving him enough freedom to prepare everything. It was a risk, but one he had to take. Tom had planned exactly how he intended to spend those two weeks. Even Granger would have been proud about the level of precision he put into planning his schedule. One day to reach his hideout, three days to recover from today's ordeal, eight days for the rituals in Valentia, allowing him two days to rest before the big D-Day.

Yes, he had everything planned out. And all of it started now. With the next step, there was no going back. No room for errors, no time for doubts, he was meant to rule and rule he would.

"Bring me the sacrifice."

.

Those eyes, those wonderful terrified eyes, pleading for mercy while receiving none – in his old body Tom would have had a hard-on. As "Ginny Weasley" he felt a blissful shudder up and down his spine, intensified because of the disgust and despair coming from Ginny's spirit. Disgust at the bloody and heartless way he disposed of the sacrifice. Despair because she was unable to stop or at least delay him. Tom cackled madly, for a moment allowing his sadistic self to raise its ugly head. Controlling his emotions was easier when he allowed them to let off steam from time to time, as he already noticed.

The sacrifice was resting on the ground: crumpled, bloodless and lifeless. Crouch would vanish her body and any hints of blood later. Now, he was watching his master, the tiny body of Ginny Weasley filled to the brim with life energy – the sacrifice's life energy. Tom needed it, both to accomplish what he had in mind and to survive the task without serious injuries or magical exhaustion on a dangerous level. Albus Dumbledore wasn't stupid or careless. He had done well in protecting the chamber. No single wizard – not even an accomplished curse breaker - would be able to shatter the wards. Bill Weasley, the oldest brother of his host body, could have tried. But even he would be unable to break through the spells protecting Tom's destination. This body was something very different right now. Strengthened by rituals and previous sacrifices, empowered by its magic, life and soul, Tom was far more than a simple wizard. He was a powerhouse of magic and lifeforce, able to punch through nearly any barrier.

And he was willing to make good use of this power. The mirror would be his.

.

Barty Crouch gulped. Sitting on the broom, he had left the grounds of Hogwarts an hour ago, memories of what he had seen still burned in his mind. It had been such an unbelievable show.

 _My master is invincible_ , he grinned madly.

Watching him kill the sacrificed girl and absorb her life force had been fairly scary. Feeling the raw magic emanating from his master had been terrifying. However, being witness to his master shattering the strong wards around the chamber, simply smashing them, toring them apart and using their magic to infuse his own core with even more might, had been the sight to behold. _Watch a true master of magic and wail in despair._

 _I'll never forget that moment_ , he mused. _It's something to tell my children and grandchildren about. I was there when it started. I and only I. Not even that bastard Pettigrew was present_. He scowled for a moment. He knew that he had to endure the rat – for now at least. The rat wouldn't stay on the seat to the right side of his lord forever. _Sooner or later, he would make some serious error. And I'll be there, watching him fall_. He smirked. _And I might even push him so he falls faster and deeper into blackness_.

Barty sighed deeply. Everything went according to plan. His master broke through the wards and got the mirror. They left the castle and separated. The Dark Lord would already be at the site of the planned ritual, thanks his portkey. Tomorrow, he would meet him again, the false lead hopefully distracting any search parties long enough to prepare everything. Not that he doubted his master's plan in any way. But like the old saying went "a plan only endures until the first contact with the foe."

 _It's never too late for a little emergency planning._

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Great Hall – the next day**_

.

"I heard she ran away with her secret lover," Lavender whispered loudly into Parvati's ear.

Hermione rolled her eyes at the silliness. For the day, Lavender was allowed to visit the group's table, the animosity between her and Hermione monetarily forgotten.

Parvati frowned. "Didn't know she had one."

"That's because it's called 'secret lover', silly: it's a secret," Lavender admonished her.

Oh, how she had missed her friend. Their friendship had taken several blows over the years, mostly about Granger and how Ron treated her. But since Halloween it completely went down the drain, and the girls had barely been on speaking turns. This all changed through a simple fact: Ginny Weasley had mysteriously vanished.

"I don't believe it," Parvati shook her head. Ginny had been behaving strangely lately, she was ready to admit that. But never had there been any sign of her being in a relationship. Actually, she didn't remember a single instance where Ginny had been willing to gossip about one of the boys. Not even Cedric - the prince charming of Hogwarts - had caught her interest. Strange that.

"Naturally, there are other rumours as well, mostly about some crime being committed. Perhaps a … creature… attacked her." She wanted to say 'a troll' but remembered Hermione's history at the last moment. Glancing towards her, Lavender continued. "Or that she was abducted and sold into slavery, perhaps into some Arabic harem." Hermione rolled her eyes again, and according to her mimic even Parvati thought that idea too hare-brained. Lavender lowered her voice: "Ron…"

"Yes?" Both Parvati and Hermione scowled at the mentioned name.

"Ron thinks…"

"Spit it out," Hermione growled. "What's his latest dumb-ass idea?"

Lavender sighed. "He assumes Neville has something to do with her disappearance."

Hermione blinked. Parvati looked more than a little confused, enough not to instantly enrage as Hermione would have expected. The Indian beauty was more than a little protective of her boyfriend. "That's quite a stretch, even for Ron's pea brain," she uttered after a few moments of silence. Ron still hated Neville, there was no doubt about it. It hadn't got any better since the rest of the Weasley family closed ranks in their attempt to welcome Neville back. Arthur's visit on Easter break, Percy's support of the boy, and now even Molly had tentatively started a pen friendship with him. With every step the Weasleys took, Ron's ire raised even more. But this…

"I don't believe it either," Lavender sighed. "Neville is simply… he is nice. He wouldn't do such a thing."

"Not to forget that he owes Ginny for learning the truth about his past," Hermione reminded her. Neville took such obligations very seriously, irrespective of how much he distrusted her reasoning.

Lavender looked her in the eye. Three weeks ago, Hermione's new look – or should she say "old look"? – had been a shock. One day, she entered the Great Hall without her usual limp. Her shoulders were even once again and the scars on her face were gone. Or mostly gone, all except a single one. One that made her more interesting to look at. Like the Japanese said "a tiny fault to emphasize the perfection". _Not that the girl was perfect, far from it_ , Lavender reminded herself, looking proudly at her own curves. But gone were most of the traces of the troll incident. After years of living with those scars, Hermione was mostly back to her former self. Ron had been spitting nails, something that had flabbergasted Lavender. Shouldn't he be thankful for this, after his not so small part in her injuries? It had been the last nail to the coffin for their years-long friendship.

"I only wanted you to know. Forewarned is forearmed, or so they say."

"I appreciate it." And Parvati really did. Hopefully, Ron was stupid enough to retell that bull in her hearing range. She had a few humiliating hexes in mind, perfect for such an opportunity.

 _Nobody badmouths my Neville. Nobody!_

.

 _ **Hogwarts – formerly warded area deep below – same time**_

.

 _It could be a coincidence_ , Albus mused, not believing it himself for a single moment. He didn't believe in coincidences, especially not in such dire times.

He was deeply shocked and scared by the sight. His wards had been shattered the day before. He had felt it immediately. Knowing that even the swiftest journey would be too late to stop the intruder, he had waited for everything to calm down. Albus wasn't certain Headmaster Slughorn would notice the disturbance. _Headmaster_ – Albus scowled deeply, but instantly pushed aside the troubling thought. Looking around, he analysed what happened here. Someone had died. Corpse and blood had been vanished, but the taint in the aura was still there. It had been a planned murder, intended to strengthen someone enough to break through Albus' impeccable wards. The approach spoke of a very dark soul. He hadn't met many of those in the past.

Was it possible? Had _He_ returned? _He_ had already attempted it a couple of years ago and the hints had been obvious about his imminent arrival. But the feeling was all wrong. _He still lacks a body_ , Albus nodded to himself. _He's using minions, like three years ago when he possessed Quirrell. And this time…_

Albus sighed in slight despair _. I should have realized it earlier, identified the signs and reacted more swiftly and decisively_. Hindsight was always 20/20 and he should have known: Voldemort was using the Weasley girl. He either possessed her, used an Imperious or some other means to control her. Whatever means he had chosen, the girl was his tool now, completely under his sway and lost to salvation. This was the real reason for her helping the Longbottom boy: Voldemort wanted to undermine Albus' position. And he had been all too successful. Did Sirius know that his plan had backfired or was he under Voldemort's sway as well? Something to ponder more deeply, certainly.

 _Back to the here and now!_

Albus looked around. There wasn't much to do any more, at least not around here. The mirror was gone, and with it the sliver of Voldemort he had trapped therein. The meaning was clear: some other sliver of the Dark Lord, stored in some other Horcrux, had started to act. Was it the sliver in Harry's head? No, Albus dismissed the thought. That Horcrux was still there. He had been able to still feel it back on Easter, a time when Voldemort already had been acting against Albus. So, there were three parts of his soul at least: the one in the mirror, the one possessing the Weasley girl and lastly the one in Harry's head.

 _I should have taken the mirror with me_ , Albus regretted that decision deeply. His plan to use it to fulfil the prophecy was now impossible. But there was still a chance to win, with Albus as the clear saviour, again. He nodded, a smile creeping on his face at the wonderful idea. Voldemort would be interested in the boy as well. _I'm certain he is preparing a ritual right now, to fuse both parts of his soul_. Why did he vanish now? Why not wait until the summer break? The answer was clear: he needed time to prepare the ritual and intended to finish it in two weeks time. Harry would be an important ingredient of the ritual.

 _He'll have to abduct him somehow from the tournament. Should I prevent it? Warn the boy? No_ , Albus shook his head. None of that. _Voldemort has to be successful. But I'll have to be there, at the ritual, influence it so that it turns out my way. I have to trace Harry_. He thought about it for a while. No, Harry was difficult to approach without raising any red flags, and with his friends around him all the time the chance was far too high for someone to detect the trace. _So, how should I… Weasley. The girl will be there. I have to trace the girl_. Yes, that was easier to achieve. The best tracer spells worked with blood. And it didn't even have to be her own. The blood of a close relative would be sufficient. And he knew just a boy willing to part with it.

Albus departed, his heart lighter again. The future didn't look as dark and bleak as it had an hour ago.

.

He never sensed the presence watching him. _This was the last chance to do the right thing instead of the easy choice, Albus_. _You have squandered it. Now, you'll have to face the repercussions and take the fall._

.

 _ **Roman Ruins – a few days later**_

.

The place was unusual without a doubt. Rarely had she been able to cross the frontier - that weird membrane that protected the plane of the living from the plane that nowadays was her home - this easily. . It usually needed something special to allow the transfer, be it a unique day like Halloween or a ritual. But this place, these ruins, obviously had enough weirdness in themselves, a combination of spiritual might and pure magic, to make it work. She hadn't even feel the urge to return, or the exhaustion that normally accompanied her few stays in this world. And for once she wasn't watching over her beloved daughter.

She had watched the girl that was two, the girl of two spirits since her arrival a few days ago. The moment her eyes crossed the girl's face, she recognized her: Ginny. Ginny Weasley, daughter of Molly and Arthur. She had been her daughter's friend in times past, in better and happier days. And now she was possessed, beaten into submission by a madman, damned to a fate worse than death. Thankfully, Selene had died swiftly on that day, her potion mishap instantly and utterly destroying her lab and her body. The girl wouldn't be this lucky. _How long has she been like this?_ Selene wondered. _How long has she been under the rule of this darkened spirit?_

Selene looked around. Apart from the girl, there were two men present at the ruins, and many ghosts. Angry ghosts. They didn't speak to her, not that she would have understood them very well in the first place. Language barriers were still an obstacle, even in the afterlife. Like most Magicals she only had a fragmented knowledge of Latin, just enough to understand the incantations of her spells, certainly not enough for a conversation. At least, they didn't attack her despite their anger. Perhaps they realized Selene had nothing to do with the living intruders who desecrated their place.

Because desecration had been on the possessed girl's mind since her arrival. Selene felt sick, thinking about the rituals. Most of them she didn't even understand. Perhaps it was best. She had never dabbled in Necromancy or other Dark Arts. Potions and Charms had been her forte. But one of the results had been far too obvious to misinterpret. The girl had entered a side chamber, filled with corpses the pair of underlings had gathered the weeks before. The darkness in the magical aura of the place had forced Selene to keep her distance as the girl started to create Inferi. Dozens of them. The sight alone troubled her deeply, the feeling intensifying as she noticed the gems the girl used to replace their eyes. What could be the meaning of those? Selene assumed it was to strengthen them or to give them additional abilities. As if Inferi alone weren't sick enough. She was disgusted beyond measure.

Perhaps this was the reason she didn't notice one of the other preparations, the hidden glances in her direction and the smirks. Selene needed awhile to acknowledge the absence of the other ghosts. Before they were whirling around all over the place. Now there was not a single one of them in sight. Selene widened the area covered by her senses. She hadn't done this for a while because of the ugly, stomach-turning changes in the magical aura of the place. Now she had to, she had to get to the ground of this. It was important, she could feel it. There was something at the edge of her senses, some kind of barrier. Was the barrier keeping them out? Had the spirit possessing the girl decided to get rid of the angry ghosts?

Selene hovered towards the barrier. It was clearer now. Looking up, she saw it rise high into the air, curving into a dome covering the whole place. Was it a whole sphere, going below the earth as well? She expected it to be like that, otherwise it wouldn't stop the ghosts…

 _Merlin!_

Only now did she realize her precarious position. The barrier was encompassing the whole place. It was keeping the ghosts outside. But she… _she_ was inside.

Selene shuddered. _I'm a prisoner!_

 _._

He knew the moment she realized the situation. _Oh no, little missy_ , he smirked, _no running away to warn the others. You'll stay and play your part – as my leverage._

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Ravenclaw Tower**_

.

 _I can't feel it any more._

The entity known to most people as the Grey Lady felt troubled. Something had changed and she hated changes, especially those of the unexplained kind. For centuries after her death, everything had been the same, year in, year out. New headmasters, teachers and students came and went, but Hogwarts always stayed the same. Then, fifty years ago, _He_ came, with his guile and his charm, his deviousness and his sweet tongue. _He_ had tricked her into revealing her knowledge about the diadem – her mother's diadem. He departed, only to return later with the diadem in hand, tainted. He hid it somewhere protected even from her senses. However, she had always known it was there, hidden within Hogwarts, tainting the place with its ugly brand of dark soul magic.

And now, this feeling was gone, like the diadem. The connection was lost. What was the meaning of this? Was he playing his ugly game again? Had he proceeded to the next step of his plan, whatever it was? For days, she had explored the castle, had spoken with paintings, house elves and other ghosts. There was no trace of the diadem, no real explanation for its vanishing. She had exhausted all her resources – aside from one.

 _I have to ask him, to tell him about the diadem and how it went missing_. She hated the feeling, hated to think about her past. But she had to do this. He deserved her trust and Hogwarts certainly deserved her sacrifice and her pride's suffering.

On the spur of the moment, the grey lady that had been Helena Ravenclaw changed directions and hurried towards the shack at the edge of Hogwarts – the shack where she would find _him_ … Harry.

.

 _ **Hogwarts – Granny's quarters**_

.

"I don't like this," Granny growled. She looked pale and quite guilty.

"Nor do I," _She_ responded with an unhappy sigh. "But it's the only way. It has to fully unfold as _He_ planned. _He_ has to feel in control. It has to end now, not with a feeble standstill like last time but with a bombastic explosion of fire and hell."

"But Selene…" Granny grumbled. It felt utter wrong to sacrifice her like this, after everything she had to endure in life and afterlife.

"She'll survive," _She_ responded glaringly, ignoring that she was talking of a spirit. She blinked softly, her aura embracing Granny in a soothing manner. "You know I love her, Granny. No harm will come to her. But she has to be there. Her daughter will need her. And the other ghosts deserve their rest as well. They've waited long enough."

"I understand," Granny whispered. "I accept." Didn't mean she had to hate it any less, or stay inactive. Granny suppressed a wistful smile. Perhaps it was time for her very last adventure.

Mathilda was ready to accept the baton.

.

 _ **Somewhere else**_

.

The place was really weird. The feeling was all wrong: the sight, the sounds and the smell. Spirits, even the taste was different. Not only normal humans, be it Mundane or Magicals, would creep out at the sensation. Even Paul, despite his past dealings with other planes, would feel out of place.

Michiko had only been able to get to this… whatever this was… with the help of her old master. Telling Takado Azuke about the past months and her feeling that something dark was looming over her son, he hadn't tried to placate her, to tell her that everything would be alright and her son safe. Instead he instantly invited her for a training session, totally freaking her out in the process. Naturally, she had followed through. You didn't reject an invitation from Takado Azuke. Entering the academy she knew so well from her youth, she had barely time to have a look around before Takado brought her here.

It looked like a Temple, a Shinto shrine of old times. It was inhabited by… she actually had no idea about the exact nature of the inhabitants. They looked human enough, but she had her doubts. Even her teacher was creepy. He hadn't told her his name, behaved like a master from one of those bad Kung Fu films from the seventies. But hell had she learned something in her time with him. She had always been an accomplished fighter, was still better than Jenny if barely. But in those sessions, she felt like a rookie getting her first impression of the Martial Arts.

"You're doing well," Takado told her. She didn't feel like it. Feeling her doubts, he added: "I was far worse on my first visit. He's content with your progress." Takado hadn't used a name for their host so far, only called him _Master_.

"I'm feeling like a rookie," Michiko complained. "And a bag of bruises."

"Don't fret," Takado slapped her shoulder, making Michiko wince from the pain. "It will get far worse before we leave again."

Michiko rolled her eyes. "Aren't you a bunch of daisies and sunshine?"

"I aim to please. Come on, let's go. Break is over."

Michiko followed him without complaint. In the end, she knew all the pain and exhaustion was worth it. Her children were worth it. She had to be ready.

.

It felt like they had spent months at this place, spending every day with fighting, training and stretching, but Takado had assured her that not even one day would have passed on their return. Michiko wished Harry and Jenny could share this training, but they weren't ready for the strangeness of the temple. Would she be allowed to bring them here at a later time? Jenny would love the place and Harry as well. Michiko smiled shortly. Luna would feel right at home, she had no doubt.

It was time for their departure. Back in the Mundane World, the day would already be near for their departure to Scotland. Her bruises had been healed, the sprains and strains recovered. Michiko felt better than in a long time.

"There you are." The _Master_ already awaited her, his hands holding a wooden casket that he offered her without further preamble.

Michiko glanced to her left and accepted the casket after a curt nod from Takado. She opened it only to find the content to be a pair of masterfully crafted and artfully designed Sai. Michiko had never seen the bluish metal that glistened in the sun like crystal, nor the thumb-sized stones that adorned their hilts. One was blue like a summer sky, the other a deep green reminding her of her son's eyes. Bands of tiny runes and symbols meandered around the blades, their meaning unknown to her. These weapons were priceless and full of magic, a really stunning gift. "Thank you, Master," Michiko was barely able to utter.

 _Master_ acknowledged her words with barely a nod before handing her a second casket, this one smaller and round like a hatbox. "This one is for your son." Michiko accepted the box without opening it, as that wasn't her place. "He'll know how to handle the content in time. There are more souls at risk than his own," his words frightening her.

But in her eyes, it was the most important one, in the eyes of a mother. Before Takado and Michiko left, the Master stopped them a last time. "Tell him he has my blessing." Confused by the parting words but intend to deliver them as ordered, Michiko departed at last.

Time to go home. Remus would be waiting for her.


End file.
